Soul Bonded
by Kreek
Summary: An exploration into the nature of a partner's bond as both Starsky and Hutch find themselves more and more trapped in a situation which could destroy them both.
1. Chapter 1 to 3

**Disclaimer: **the characters of Starsky and Hutch, and all show related facts, places and people don't belong to me. No money is being made from this. The OC's, however, are mine.  
**  
Dedication** goes to all the people I've met here and on the S and H lists, for their inspiration and confidence they've given me. The first three chapters of Soul Bonded were beta-ed by Cindy E.; the rest was done by Starsky's Strut. Proof reading has been done by Wuemsel. However, all mistakes made are entirely mine. Feedback is welcome.

**Warning: **this story will get pretty emotionally intense in upcoming chapters, and deals with the feeling of loss, more than anything else. _If you are sensitive to this: do not read. If you do, don't come complaining to me about it, afterwards! In other words: If you can't stand the heat, vacate the cooking area. _This story contains the death of a child, as well as some disturbing riot scenes. Rated: R for upcoming scenes.

This is NOT a death story.

**Catagory:** Hutch h/c, but also Starsky hurt. Both S. and H. Angst.

**Author's note: **this is the first S and H story I've ever written, on paper, so it's very special to me. I finally found the time, and the confidence to digitalize it, and post it here.

First and foremost, I'd like to give a big heartfelt hug to Strut. I could never have done this without her. Her input, suggestions and ideas were invaluable to me. It's not always easy to write about two people who live in a country you have never been to. We both had a lot of laughs at some of the mistakes I made, and since I'm a non-native English speaker, they sometimes were quite funny. Credit for some of the lines, and storyline ideas goes to her. Secondly I'd like to thank Wuemsel for her encouragement, and for helping me to keep both Starsky and Hutch in character when they'd both lost so much of themselves.

I wanted to make the bond between Starsky and Hutch a bit more tangible (gen-wise speaking) than usual is being portrayed. This in depth exploration may not be the way you picture their bond to be (again, only gen-wise speaking!), but it is the way it's going to be in this story. I enjoyed this 'exploration' very much, and I hope you will enjoy this story.

Feedback is always welcome, as long as it is constructive

Enjoy.

* * *

**"Soul Bonded"  
**(By Kreek©June2005)

**Chapter 1**

_The blue-eyed man grabbed his hand. He felt the warmth of his touch and saw the love and concern reflected in his eyes. The man whispered his name: "Starsky..." The voice familiar, the sound soothing as it continued, "I won't be coming out… not this time." _

_Starsky sat on a bed as the sound of the words faded into silent darkness, making him feel… lost. "No," he answered. "Don't go…" But the blond man disappeared. "No!" Starsky yelled and woke up, the scream caught in his throat._

_Sweat poured from his face as he sat up heaving to catch his breath. His heart was pounding in his chest and his mouth was dry._

"_Having that same dream again?" _

_It took him a moment to wake up completely and straighten out his thoughts. He felt a hand on his arm and noticed his wife Belinda looking at him with her brown eyes he loved so much. He nodded. "Same one." He turned to sit on the bedside and wiped the sweat from his brow with his left hand. "I don't know what it means… I have the feeling that it's important somehow." He looked back at her._

"_Dave," she said seriously. "If it's that important, you'll find out what it means, sooner or later."_

_He sighed, nodded, and decided to give it a rest. "I'm gonna get some water. Want some?" She shook her head, and by the time Starsky closed the bedroom door behind him, she was already fast asleep._

_Starsky fumbled his way in the dark over to the kitchen where he picked up a glass and filled it with water. The cool liquid slid down his throat, clearing his thoughts. He had been having this dream a few nights in a row now. The first night he hardly remembered any of it. But recently things seemed to linger, mostly feelings like familiarity, love… and despair. _

_Tonight, however, something else had surfaced, triggered by the dream. An emotional response he had not expected. It was the feeling of utter loneliness, as if he'd lost something, or someone, very dear to him. It was so strong that it awakened him. But he did not have a clue as to _why _he would feel that way. Overwhelmed by it, he could not bring himself to tell his wife._

_His life, up till now, had been pretty standard. After having moved out of his parents' house, a job at a small hardware store had paid for the bills, nicely. And when his parents had died he'd started to travel. After a couple of months he'd met Belinda who was about to start up an Italian restaurant of her own in a small Canadian town on the West coast called Burnaby. Last month they'd gotten married and now they even thought about having kids. _

_He filled the glass again as his mind tried to justify his feelings. They didn't make any sense. There was nothing in his life that could account for the dreams he'd been having. The only thing that could make him feel as lonely as he did now was if he'd lose Belinda, or the restaurant. _

"_Maybe it's a premonition," he thought, feeling quite tired for he had not slept well all week. But somehow he knew that was not the case. The dream already started to feel unreal. _

_He drank the last of the water and went back to bed._

* * *

**Chapter 2**

The little boy looked hesitantly at the blue-eyed blond man kneeling in front of him.

"Take it," the man said warmly, trying to put a five dollar bill in the boy's hand. "Buy your mother something nice, huh."

Slowly the boy's features turned into a shy smile. He momentarily forgot the lousy street he was on, the passing cars, the huddled people rushing by who were protecting themselves from the rain that poured out of the grey cloud-laden sky. He reached out and touched the raw paper of the dollar bill with his small hand, slowly closing his fingers around it. The man let it go, smiling at him.

The boy suddenly noticed the gun belt strapped underneath the brown leather jacket. His eyes went large as he clutched the bill to his chest. The man seemed to notice his shock and closed his jacket.

"It's all right. I won't hurt you. I'm a cop."

But the boy only saw the gun, the danger, and the consequences that his short life had been riddled with so far. He turned around and ran, away from the fear and the pain he did not yet comprehend.

And away from love.

But he still had the dollar bill, and he knew exactly what kind of present his mother would like.

* * *

"You can't save 'em all, Hutch…" The evening had just started. Darkness came early this night. Starsky stood huddled in a doorway, watching the scene a few yards ahead of him with a slight smile. 

His partner sat crouched for a moment, then looked up. "Well", he said, putting his hands on his knees and standing up, "I can try, can't I?" He walked over to the doorway, while glancing back to see the boy disappear in an alleyway.

"You know what, Starsk? That boy reminds me of a friend I use to have: scruffy, curly hair, always cruising the streets. My parents hated him, but he had a heart of gold."

Starsky looked at him. His hands were buried deep in his cardigan's pockets and his collar was up to protect him from the rain. However, little rivers of water still managed to trickle down his neck, however. His jeans were soaked as were his shoes, causing him to shiver. "How 'bout the friend you have now, with a heart of gold, cruising the streets, curly-haired? I'm drowning, man!"

Hutch smiled. With his white blond hair and light brown leather jacket soaked through, his black turtle neck and brown trousers were remarkably dry. It annoyed Starsky to no end.

Finally Hutch seemed to notice his miserable appearance "C'mon, I'll buy ya a beer."

That put a smile on Starsky's face. "Yeah? Okay. Well, c'mon White Knight, don't stand there in the rain too long. Ya might get wet." The brunet turned around and practically bounced inside the bar they had been standing in front of, neatly avoiding a clever retort from the blond. Still smiling to himself, Starsky knew that all Hutch could do was shake his head and follow him inside.

* * *

The woman sitting at the window looked out into the pouring rain. Rivers of water slid down the glass of the dirty window in its useless attempt to get in. The bar was warm and quiet. Not many people had dared to venture out in this downpour. 

The lady liked the rain. It settled in perfectly with the dark and grey mood she had found herself in ever since her husband, Marc, died over a year ago. She had tried to go on then. And after a few months she actually succeeded in doing just that. However, the dead feeling inside her never quite seemed to go away. She'd learned to live with it, but she couldn't remember the last time she'd been happy, the last time since she'd genuinely smiled.

She was watching the blond man on the street. The whole scene with the little boy defrosted her heart a little bit. Her eyes followed him as he headed up to the bar and entered it along with another guy. This one, a brunet, had apparently been seeking shelter from the rain in the doorway.

The two men came in. Her breath caught in her throat when she was watching the blond and the brunet making their way over to the bar. What came into view caught her completely by surprise.

She saw something she had never thought she would see again. She definitely had not expected it to show up on a dreadfully dark grey day as this one, and in two _men_ at that. A connection… One she had once shared with Marc.

It blinded her, and for the first time in over a year she smiled.

She looked at the blond again, studying him more closely. Suddenly her smile faded. What she had seen scared her.

Somehow she had to warn them.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. If it isn't my two favourite detectives," Huggy said, putting down the beer pull he was cleaning. He walked over to them. "You look like ya all could use a drink."

"Yeah," Starsky agreed, jumping on a bar stool, while Hutch sat himself down at a table in front of it. "That and a towel." Huggy threw the sour-looking detective the desperately needed item.The brunet took off his vest and started drying his hair. "Thanks Hug," he said gratefully. "You saved my life."

"Don't I always," Huggy grinned.

Hutch caught the towelhis partnerthrew at him and said, "A beer and water please Hug."

Starsky picked up his heavy, water-filled cardigan from the bar and muttered, "I would think you'd have seen enough water for one night, Hutch."

"Hey, hey, don't do that!" Huggy shouted in irritation when Starsky vehemently started wringing his cardigan above the floor. "I spent the entire morning cleaning the floor!" He pointed an angry finger at Starsky: "I have you know that The Pits has never been so clean."

"Really?" Starsky mocked, while curiously looking around. Except for a lady at the window and a couple of regulars in the back, the place was deserted.

"Have fun all you want but at least this Huggy Bears is clean."

Knowing Hutch's preferences for all things healthy and sane, Huggy put the glass of water on the table for the blond and shoved the beer in Starsky's hand. How Hutch had ever ended up with having Starsky, the beer and cold pizza type, for a partner was beyond him.

"Huggy, any news?" Hutch asked, elbows on the table, gently sipping the water.

"_Damn the man looks tired,"_ Huggy thought, checking out the signs of sleep deprivation around the blond's eyes. "_Starsky's not doing any better. This case's really getting to them."_

Huggy hesitated. The question brought him back to reality. "Yeah well…"

Lately the city had been wrecked with a string of murders. All users. All kids. To the casual observer it looked like they had OD'd. However, autopsy reports confirmed there had not been enough dope in their bloodstreams to make an OD a very likely possibility.

Fortunately, the crime lab had found something else in the bodies of the victims: a mixture of compounds they could not make heads or tales of. While most elements remained a mystery to them, the lab did manage to identify several trace elements of lethal poisons. In minute amounts these poisons could be addictive, and eventually would kill.

Four kids had been found dead so far. All of them located within Metro's district. The last one of them had been the small teenage girl, Micki.

That was two days ago. Starsky had told Huggy they'd found her inside a garbage container. He had not told the bar owner all the grim details, but Huggy could tell by the absence of Hutch that night that this murder had severely shaken both of them up. Huggy recalled Hutch had taken a liking to the girl no more than a few years ago. She had even tried to stay clean for a while. But old habits die hard.

Finding that small girl inside a garbage container, tossed away like dirt, had caused the duo to pick up their pace. They had been working on the case almost twenty-four hours a day now. However, by the looks of things, they weren't any closer to anything resembling a solution than they were when the murders had first started.

"_Well, guess that's about to change…"_ Huggy thought grim. "You ain't gonna like it," he said putting himself on a stool next to Starsky.

"Huggy." The impatient, tired note in Starsky's voice was not lost on the bar owner. "Get to the point, will ya?"

Huggy took a deep breath and braced himself. "Word is," he began slowly and then shook his head. "Oh man…"

"Huggy!" Hutch urged.

"Okay. Someone new is in town. Someone pretty big. Has every pusher and dealer going undercover, even the crime-lords. Kids have to turn to this new one now to get whatever it is they're craving, ya dig?"

Starsky leaned in closer, resting his left arm on the bar and putting his chin in his left hand. Apparently he was in no mood for waiting games. "Does this person have a name?"

Big brown eyes shot from Hutch to Starsky and back to Hutch again. Huggy slowly answered. "Karl Samuel …Forest."

Silence descended as both detectives visibly froze.

Huggy noticed the shock in Starsky's eyes and saw him shooting a glance at his partner.

With the glass of water suspended between the table and his mouth, Hutch was staring in slight shock at the both ofthem. Then he sat back, his leather jacket creaking. His cold voice seemed to make the ambient temperature in the cosy bar drop a few degrees. "Forest."

"Related. A brother. Or so it seems. "

Starsky looked at him. The brunet's rich blues eyes were coloured with an inner turmoil betraying both his hate upon hearing the name and his concern for his partner. "A brother?" he asked, lowering his voice to a dangerous level.

Huggy nodded, keeping his eyes on the silent Hutch.

"You're telling me," Starsky continued, "that the man who strung my partner out two years ago has a brother? One who just happens to set up shop right in the middle of our district?"

Huggy turned his attention away from the blond, which he suspected was precisely what the New Yorker in front of him had meant to do. "Yeah man. Whatever Karl's plan is, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that it has something to do with the two of you." He shrugged. "But that's all I know man…"

The emotion in Starsky's eyes slowly diminished. He lowered them to stare into his glass of beer, thinking. Upon hearing his partner's voice, he looked up.

"We owe you Hug," Hutch said, nodding his thanks. However, Huggy could tell by the far off look in the blond's eyes that he wasn't really aware of the bar owner's presence anymore.The detective stood up and walked outside.

Huggy sighed. He had a bad feeling about this. The last time they had dealings with a Forest it had cost them a lot more than precious time… Especially Hutch.

"Sorry man," he said to Starsky, whose brooding features were now facing the door behind which his partner had just disappeared.

"Yeah," Starsky answered him. "Yeah".

Huggy sighed again. He picked up the glass he had been cleaning and went back to work.

**Tbc**


	2. Chapter 4 and 5

Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews, they are so much appreciated. It warms my heart to know that you are really enjoying SB so far. For those of you who have been wondering: this is NOT a death story, I don't write those… the OC's however, are a whole other matter. My advice is to not get too attached to them. Okay, on with the story…

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Starsky didn't like what he'd just heard anymore than the blond did. He sighed. Knowing Hutch, it was not a bright idea to go storming after him right now. His partner needed some space, if only for a few minutes.

Jumping off the stool, he quickly drank the last of the beer. Deep in thought he did not notice the woman walking up to the table Hutch had just vacated. She took a seat in the now empty chair.

He put down the empty glass and was about to check up on his partner when he suddenly noticed the lady looking up at him. She was an older woman, a brunette with a pretty face whose soft features and wrinkles around the eyes told him the familiar story of the hardships of life. The large green eyes fixed him to the floor.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I would like to ask you something." Her calm voice sounded both intelligent and wise.

Starsky, gallant as ever, couldn't find it in his heart to ignore her and walk out. Though she was an older woman; she was a woman and, as a man, you did not ignore a woman. Apart from that there was something in her eyes that seemed to unsettle him a great deal. Curiosity got the better of him.

Knowing his partner was probably brooding in the Torino and wouldn't mind it in the least to be left alone for a while longer, he graciously approached her.

"Sure Miss…?"

"Delilah, but you can call me Lilly."

"Starsky, David Starsky," he said, taking the seat in front of her.

"I saw your friend helping out that little boy earlier."

Starsky frowned. "Oh?"

She nodded at the window seat.

"Oh," Starsky said, realizing she must have seen it from there.

"That was a very nice thing to do."

Her green eyes, friendly and curious, somehow seemed to pierce right through him, intensifying the uncomfortable feeling he was experiencing.

"Well, we know where that boy is coming from. We're just trying to help."

Now it was Lilly's turn to frown at him.

"We're cops. Detectives," he hurried to explain.

"Of course," she said smiling, as if she had already known that they could not possibly be in any other profession.

"Look Lilly," Starsky started, trying to get to the point. It was beginning to annoy him that she seemed to know all about them, and he only knew her name. "You just wanted to know why my partner gave that boy some money, is that it?"

Her smile faded. She stared at him, her eyes clearly showing that that was not it. Starsky could tell she was sizing him up, pondering over her next words and trying to decide exactly how to say them.

Lilly kept her silence and looked like she was not going to speak anytime soon. Starsky stood up to leave. "If you'll excuse me ma'am, I …"

"Do you think…?" she suddenly interrupted him with a soft voice and a serious look on her face, "that he can go on without you?"

Starsky froze. She pierced him with her green eyes and waited patiently for his answer.

Confused by the sudden question, not to mention that annoying yet friendly glare, he deliberately made it look like he misunderstood. "The little boy?"

She smiled. "No, your partner… would he make it without you?"

Starsky was not known for his incredible patience when threats were uttered against him or Hutch. With all these weird murders going on lately, plus the recent news that a Forest was probably out to get them, he could not afford to take her words lightly. His voice dropped a few octaves. "I hope," he said as he slowly walked over to where she sat, gripping the chair's backrest with his left hand and leaning in close to her, "that wasn't a threat I heard, lady?"

She visibly shrank away from him, obviously shaken by his reaction. She stood up, putting some distance between the two of them. "No, that's not what I meant."

"Well, _what_ did you mean?" Starsky let the anger show in his voice, while slowly sitting down on the table.

"It's hard to explain."

"Try anyway, sweetheart."

She was silent for a while before speaking. "Sometimes when I see people I can… tell certain things about them." She began pacing the floor.

Starsky eyed her suspiciously. "So can I, it doesn't take much of a genius…"

Much to his surprise she cut him short, going straight to the point. "I can sense more than others Detective. When you two came in…" She stopped her pacing and looked up. Starsky didn't move an inch as she walked over to him and gently grabbed his arm.

"You're soul-bonded," she carefully stated, almost as a warning. "Did you know that?"

Staring at her, Starsky was not sure whether to believe what he had just heard or not. He decided to just play along for now, knowing there was more to life than what the eye could see. He and Hutch had both dealt with their share of psychics and other weirdoes. But most of those had a screw loose. Most of those had wanted them dead. Without a doubt, these cases had caused a lot of fear and anguish for the both of them.

However, the fact remained that she had hit the truth. He knew that, without ever having to think about it. And in his eyes that made her very dangerous.

Cautiously he freed his arm from her grip.

"Yeah," he said carefully, sizing her up, "I know that."

Somehow she did not look dangerous, more concerned than threatening. He had to give it to her, she stood her ground and did not step back as he leaned forward, pointing a finger at her. "And if you know that, you must know the answer to your first question. What's your point?"

She looked at him, sadness colouring her features. "I'm just trying to warn you Detective, his future feels very, very lonely."

Starsky jumped off the table, stating in a cold angry voice, "Look lady, whatever premonition you think you've got going, I am not going to die."

She didn't flinch. "I never said you would."

"You're saying he's going to…?"

"I'm not saying anything, I just…," her voice softened to a whisper and her eyes unfocused as she apparently tried to access her feelings. "Something's going to get to him…" She looked up with a confused expression on her face. "That's all the warning I can give you."

From outside a horn suddenly sounded and he realized his partner was getting impatient. Taking a deep breath, Starsky wrenched his eyes free from hers, hesitated briefly, and then walked over to the door.

"Just remember…" she started to say before he exited the bar. She walked over to him and grabbed his arm again, emerald green eyes piercing his blue ones. "Your soul will never forget… remember that."

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Starsky pulled open the door on the driver's side of his red Torino. A _striped tomato_ his partner called it, but right now Starsky couldn't care less. It kept him dry and that was top priority at the moment.

Entering the car he found Hutch to be already there, watching the huddled pedestrians on the street. Starsky closed the door and sat back. "Are you all right?"

Hutch turned to look at him. "Yeah," he replied. "Look, let's just see if Dobey's got any info on this okay?"

Starsky looked at him. Focusing on the case instead of on the fear, as Hutch was doing right now, was a good reaction. Detective instincts kept their heads clear. It had saved their necks a couple of times.

"Okay," Starsky agreed, started the engine, and drove off.

He could feel the tensed anger building up in the two of them at the fact that Forest, a name his partner had tried so hard to forget, was out and about now.

Benjamin Forest had been dangerous; the man had been ruthless when it came to money, possessions and love. His brother could not be that much different. Starsky felt the anger rising at the thought of all the young lives that man had taken.

To top it all off, Lilly's words still rang in his mind, increasing his anxiety tenfold. He decided right then and there that it would be absolutely pointless to worry about what she had said. There were more important things to worry about right now.

Hutch shook his head: "Starsk, I can't believe someone would kill all those kids just to get on our nerves, I mean what's the point."

"I don't know," Starsky answered, trying to keep his eyes on the road. He kept his emotions in check and instead let his partner vent his anger on him.

Hutch settled down a bit and sighed. "You know, sometimes it seems like we're not making any difference at all out there on the streets. We pick up one creep and in comes another. So we pick 'em up again, and again, and again."

Starsky smiled grimly. "Then that's what we'll do Hutch, that's what we'll do."

* * *

The moment Starsky opened the door accessing homicide, Captain Dobey's voice shattered through the room. "STARSKY, HUTCHINSON… GET IN HERE!" Hutch sought after the source of the booming voice and was just in time to see Dobey disappear inside his office. 

Smiling at his partner, Starsky held the office door open for him. "You know, we better solve this case in the next twenty-four hours partner. Even the Cap's working late." He followed Hutch into the room. It was furnished with a couple of desks which as usual were cluttered with files and long overdue paper work. "You know, I actually think he might've lost some weight over this recent case of ours," Starsky continued.

Hutch shot a conspiring glance in his direction, both men thinking the same thing. The blond couldn't help but feel a smile forming on his lips. Starsky grinned and said, "Yeah, guess we better make that forty-eight hours!"

Hutch took off his jacket and threw it across his desk. He had his gun belt strapped over his black turtle neck and tried to loosen the belt up a bit by tugging at the leather straps. Then he walked over to the water tank, poured himself a drink and followed his partner into the Captain's office.

Dobey had sat down behind his desk. A stern look made it clear he was in no mood for jokes today. "I have some news for you two," he started, his voice surprisingly mild.

Hutch almost smiled at that. Their Captain always tried so hard to be the tough stern commander, but never quite succeeded with the both of them.

"We know Cap'n." Starsky interrupted him, anger apparent in every word.

Hutch eyed his partner for one moment. He knew Starsky had kept a lid on his temper for his sake. Up till now.

"You know?" Dobey asked, clearly surprised.

Turning his attention back to Dobey, Hutch nodded. "Huggy told us."

Dobey looked from one to the other. "That snitch of yours is gonna be the death of me someday."

Starsky walked over to the desk, put his hands down and leaned in to face his Captain. Knowing what was to come, Hutch sank into a chair in the corner.

"What we want to know is…," he heard his partner begin dangerously calm, "how this could've happened? The department knew about the Forest Family's reputation… the ruthless drug dealing kind." He leaned in a bit closer. "And what you're telling me now is that no one has bothered to keep an eye on Forest's brother? No alarm bells were going off as he settled himself right here? At the exact same place his brother got busted?"

Dobey sank back in his chair. Hutch noticed the captain had unconsciously put some distance between him and the angry detective standing in front of his desk. Dobey crossed his fingers "The Feds were keeping an eye on him, but when he kept quiet, they let him loose. They assured me that there was no chance in hell that the Forest Family would ever pick up their old habits again."

Starsky exploded. "Their old habits! Captain! The last time their 'old habits' surfaced I had to pick up a broken Hutch from the street! They'd drugged him, strung him out!" The words were accompanied by a stiff pointing hand in Hutch's direction.

"Starsk," Hutch intervened, raising a hand, not sure as to what to say.

His partner kept ranting, oblivious to Hutch's objections and the slight pain that surfaced in his eyes at the graphic description Starsky was now throwing in their captain's face.

"It took him weeks to recover, and you're telling me the Feds think they've changed? You saw what they are capable of!" He was shouting now.

"Starsky," Hutch sighed.

At the softness of his voice Starsky turned around and their eyes locked. Hutch saw his partner's anger and frustration subsiding a bit.

The brunet turned back, pinning Dobey with an icy stare. "Men like that do not change and you do not let them loose on the streets," he finished.

"I know!" Dobey retorted. "I was there, remember?"

Starsky was silent for a moment.

Standing up, Hutch put a hand on his friend's arm while leaning over Dobey's desk.

"Captain, Starsky's right, men like that don't change. Men like that want revenge." The softness had all but disappeared from his voice, and a hard unemotional tone had taken over. "And if he so much as picks on a stray dog, Starsky and I'll be on him so fast he'll never know what hit him."

Turning, Hutch looked Starsky in the eye for a moment and then left the room. As he entered the squad room, he heard Dobey yelling his orders behind him. "You do that!"

"We will, Cap," Starsky said. He followed Hutch out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Hutch picked up his jacket. His partner sat down at his desk and put his feet up. "Well," he said, trying to lighten up the mood a bit. "We can't do anything about it tonight. You're going home?"

"Yeah." Hutch answered with a slight smile. Starsky nodded, understanding. "I'm tired Starsk, see you in the morning."

* * *

Starsky watched his partner leave. He could not help but remember the wreck Hutch had become after Ben Forest had shot hypo after hypo filled with 'the good stuff' into him. They had gotten him so addicted that the blond would have told them anything they wanted to know. At that point, Starsky was sure he even would have sold out his own partner. 

The strong sympathetic, caring man that was his partner had turned into an addict, a user with only one objective, to get more of the 'happy stuff'. Lucky for him his survival instincts had kicked in and had made him escape. Lucky for him Starsky had found him, crumbled on the streets.

And then the cold turkey had begun …

Starsky's optimism would not let him stray down that path for too long. His partner had recovered due to sheer strength of character. But Starsky wondered how deep the scars really ran.

"_Deep,_" he guessed, _"but you move on."_

He sighed, put his feet down, and picked up a form to fill out today's report. It was going to be a long night.

**Tbc**


	3. Chapter 6 and 7

**Thanks** to all who enjoy reading SB.  
Also thanks to BLG!

* * *

**Chapter 6**

_Starsky parked the pick up truck outside the grocery store to pick up some supplies. His truck was a dark red one, and for some reason he had grown quite attached to it. It had faithfully helped him keep the restaurant running in the last few months. Whistling cheerfully, he entered the grocery store. _

"_Hey Hank!" He shouted as he walked passed the shelves picking up what he needed._

"_Hey Starsky, are you going to rob my shop clean again, huh?"_

"_Yeah," he answered. "Something like that."_

"_There's some new stuff in the back ya might want? It came in last week."_

"_Thanks man," Starsky nodded politely, and headed towards the shelves located in the back of the store. _

_Hank had been right. There were some things here which hadn't been here earlier. This was a small town, way out of range of Western Canada's main supply routes. New supplies were not coming in all that often. He picked up one of the flashlights, checking it out. "I could use this…," he said, throwing the light into the box he was carrying under his arm. _

_Then he stopped dead in his tracks. _

_Just in front of him, dangling form a shelf support were some light blue, four-legged stuffed dogs. They were small things with funny looking tufts of hair on their heads. He stared at them; they brought back some kind of memory. _

_Slowly, he raised his hand, carefully touching one of them. _

_A memory rushed upwards, an image of a desk, a feeling of pain, intense pain… in his stomach, and the realisation that he was going to die. He reached out for someone. A hand grabbed his. Looking up, he stared into a pair of rich blue eyes. _

_For a moment the image lingered. Then the memory faded._

_Breathing heavily, Starsky found himself leaning against the shelf unit, clutching one of the blue stuffed dogs to his chest. He was sweating, and shaking all over. _

"_Hey man, are you all right back there?"_

_Starsky managed to stammer an answer, "Yeah, I just dropped the damned box."_

_He stood there for a while, trying to make sense of it all. Having dreams was one thing, but to have these images occur in the middle of the day was quite another. He didn't understand it. The images, the feelings, they all felt so real. But they didn't make sense. He didn't even own a desk for instance. He hated the things, so he had never bothered to get one installed. _

_Looking down at the blue thing still clutched in his hands, he realised he experienced that same feeling of loss again. Not only that, a moment ago he'd been sure he was about to die. Why? "_Poison_," his mind answered. But that was ridiculous. He had never been poisoned in his life! Such things just did not happen in real life. _

_Slowly he picked up his box from the floor. _

_The blue thing reminded him of blue eyes. He stared at it for what seemed like an eternity. Blue eyes… _

_But the memory started to fade, leaving nothing but the overwhelming feeling that something was missing from his life. Sighing, he put the dog in the box. "Guess you're coming home with me."_

* * *

**Chapter 7**

"Hey pal, ready for duty?" Cheerfully Starsky walked into Hutch's front door, and headed straight for the fridge. Hutch leaned against the kitchen sink, wearing a green shirt with a flannel black and white shirt on top and brown pants underneath. He was drinking a white substance, containing ingredients which Starsky wouldn't even start to guess at.

"What are you doing?" Hutch said with a smile.

"Getting breakfast blue eyes, what d'ya think."

"Starsk, why don't you have breakfast at home like normal people? You come in here, every morning, expecting me to have dead slices of pizza, and a year supply of beer in the fridge … I don't even like pizza."

Starsky, who was wearing a blue T-shirt, blue shirt, jeans and right now his brown leather jacket instead of his vest, picked up exactly those items out of the refrigerator. Smiling, he straightened up, winking at Hutch, "I knew ya loved me." He jumped up onto the kitchen sink, continuing the conversation with his mouth full. "Ya know… for a man who hates pizza, you order it a lot," he teased.

Hutch did not answer to that at first; He put the glass down and picked up his jacket. "For your information I did not order out for that one last night, I cooked it myself."

Starsky was genuinely surprised, and took another bite. "Oh yeah? Hmm, it's pretty good. What did ya put on it?"

Walking past him, his partner replied with a straight face. "Same stuff I put in my cocktails every morning."

The brunet stopped chewing, and nearly choked on the bit he was about to swallow, before managing to spit the whole thing out into the sink"God, Hutch! You can't put desiccated liver on a pizza! It's sacrilege!"

Hutch just smiled. "You comin'?"

Frantically, Starsky tried to wash away the taste of the pizza with gulps of beer, and jumped down. Still muttering, he followed his partner out the door.

They took Hutch's car.

The brunet had the feeling that his partner needed to drive in order to keep his mind off current events. Trouble was, that Hutch's car, an old Ford, was exactly that… old. But it had character. Starsky had to give him that.

The morning passed completely uneventful. No signs of any killings, any crimes, or any criminals for that matter. There were no dealers on the streets, and now that Starsky thought of it, there were no users either.

He figured the department knew where Karl Forest was having his hide out, but since no evidence had presented itself, connecting him to these murders, the brunet hesitated to suggest they'd pay the man a visit. If it were up to him he would keep his partner from having any contact with that man whatsoever.

"Zebra three come in please."

Bored to tears right about now Starsky picked up the receiver. "Starsky here, what is it sweetheart."

Smiling, Hutch threw him a sideway glance. He shook his head.

"Switch to Tack Two for Captain Dobey."

"Sure thing dear-"

The blond snatched the receiver from Starsky's hand, before the flirting could become serious.

"Hey!" he protested, "I wasn't finished!"

"Always the charming one, Starsk…" Hutch interrupted him. "You know, one day you might find yourself getting married."

"Well," Starsky said as he switched channels on the radio. "Who knows?"

Hutch shook his head again, pressing the receiver's button. "Yeah, what is it Cap?"

The stern voice of Dobey filled the car's interior."There's been another murder, 224 Sea View Road. Apartment 4b. I want you two to check it out, before the Feds get there!"

Starsky's raised an eyebrow at Hutch.

"The Feds, Captain?"

"Yeah, they sped out of my office like two burned turkeys, when they got wind of this."

Hutch threw the receiver to his partner, and slammed the car into a higher gear.

"Cap'n," Starsky managed to ask, as he was trying to put the light on top, while at the same time being pushed back in his seat at the sudden increase of speed. "Did they talk to you about these murders?"

"They're not interested in the murders at all Starsky. All the Feds want is the dope causing them! They told me, in no uncertain terms, that they expect us to notify them if, and when we make a bust. Now see that you get there before they do!"

Starsky looked over to Hutch before answering. "Ten four Cap." He put down the receiver.

They picked up speed as Hutch rushed them through the light midday traffic. "Starsk?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't think it's just a matter of revenge buddy, there's more going on here."

"Yeah," he agreed, knowing exactly what his partner meant.

Huggy had all but told themKarl Forest's mission was to get to them. If Karl was connected to the murders he could have done them in order to get on the Detective's nerves, to _make_ them go after Karl. Making a kill look like an OD would fit into that plan, knowing how much that would upset the both of them. After all, Karl was one of the few people who were aware of his brother's history with Hutch. However, all this, did not explain the Feds high interest in this drug.

Unless the drug was meant to do something other than kill.

All of a sudden Starsky's growing anxiety brought Lilly's words back to mind.

"_His future feels very, very lonely… Something's going to get to him…"_

He stared at his blond partner. The feeling of unease started to grow.

Apparently, Hutch picked up on it, and said, "I don't like it."

"Nope… me neither." He turned away from his partner, staring in the direction that they were going.

A thought began to form in his mind as he pondered over Lilly's words. A bad feeling began to rise in the pit of his stomach. It was nothing more than a hunch, but what if the drug was just being tested? Tested, until it was perfected, and could be used on…on…?

He barely suppressed a sharp intake of breath as his thoughts led him to a disturbing conclusion.

_It's not _us_ he wants at all_. He thought with sudden clarity. _It's Hutch… He just wants Hutch!_

* * *

**Tbc**


	4. Chapter 8 and 9

Thank you all who took the time to comment, review, or email me in private on this story. Your support is invaluable. After this there are just two more chapters to build up the story. Then things will start to unravel.

Strut, thanks for your insight in the US justice system.

**

* * *

****Chapter 8**

They walked passed the uniforms standing in the hallway by the open door, which clearly was the centre of all the commotion.

Entering the small living space, Hutch took in the surroundings. The room was poorly furnished. The furniture that was there looked worn out with use and age. Almost at once, the blond noticed the woman sitting in a chair in the back of the room, sobbing and shaking. Then his eyes strayed to the body, lying face up on the floor, eyes wide open.

Hutch stopped dead as he saw who it was that had apparently died in the middle of this woman's living room. He recognized him instantly, for this man had once held him tight as another had injected hypo after hypo into him.

It was the man he had kicked in the head when he jumped out of their car to escape. The one man they'd never been able to find again. According to Ben Forest, Hutch had severely injured his face at the time, and the guy had lain low for a while, thereby escaping justice.

The blond forgot where he was, a very old apartment building not to far from Huggy's place. A rushing sound filled his ears as he forgot to breathe.

He snapped out of it when he felt his partners hand on his arm, realizing Starsky had unconsciously reached out for him as soon as he'd assessed the situation. Meanwhile, the brunet was drilling the police officer on the spot.

"It's a clear cut case," the officer answered him. "She shot him, said he was trying to kill her."

Hutch's eyes locked onto the women. He walked over to squat in front of her. "I'm Sergeant Hutchinson, this is Sergeant Starsky."

When she didn't respond, he gently cupped her chin, lifting it with his right hand. She was pretty, if you forgot the sunken eyes, the red rims around them, and the matted copper coloured hair. "Why?" he asked, knowing that right now would be his best chance to get some answers out of her.

She looked up at him as her brown eyes seemed to notice him for the first time. He felt her calming down a bit, placing some trust in him. He let go of her face and waited. She looked over at a bouquet of flowers, decorating a dresser near the wall. The colourful greenery looked totally out of place in this otherwise neglected room. Out of place… but beautiful.

Starsky walked over to the dresser, smelling the small white and yellow flowers.

"Beautiful, aren't they?"

The woman's voice was amazingly deep and warm. _She has character,_ Hutch thought.

She sighed. "My son gave them to me… It made me think things over… Made me want to stop."

"Stop what?" Hutch asked carefully, not wanting to scare her off.

She pulled up the sleeve from her beige blouse, showing them her right arm. "Stop this," she whispered."

Starsky looked at it in anger, releasing a deep breath as her arm clearly showed the pin pricks of needles, the markings of a user.

Hutch couldn't help but grab the woman's arm more tightly than he'd meant to. "He tried to fix you up?" He asked in a voice matching the firmness of his grip, while stiffly pointing his free hand at the body.

Realizing he was hurting her, the blond loosened his grip.

She nodded, still shaking. "He gave it to me for free. Can you imagine that?" She gave him an empty smirk, her eyes didn't laugh. "He only wanted me to agree to keep using his stuff regularly… And I agreed. Of course I agreed! Wouldn't you?"

She looked at Hutch when she said that, startling him, slowly realizing that she was just speaking in general. Forcing himself to calm down, he let go of her arm, and stood up.

"Anyway… I changed my mind, I didn't want it anymore. So he… he tried to force me to take the shot… I didn't want it, and th… then he tried to k… kill me." Her eyes shot over to the knife which was now carefully being sealed in a bag. "So… so I shot him."

Hutch tried to keep the uneasy tremble he was experiencing from showing. Luckily the woman didn't notice. But of course Starsky did.

"Look," his partner started to say as the brunet moved over to her, giving Hutch some breathing space to recover. "Can you tell us anything about his connections? Where he got the dope from, for instance?"

"You believe me?" A glint of hope shone in her eyes as she looked from Starsky to Hutch.

Hutch massaged his neck, and nodded. "Yeah… We believe you."

"Helen," she said. "Name's Helen."

"Helen." Starsky stated, demanding her to look at him. "The dope, d' you have any idea where he got it from?"

She shook her head. "No, he just mentioned it was something new."

Both men looked at each other for a moment, knowing full well that if she had taken the shot, the body lying on the floor would have been hers. _She's a bit older than the other victims though_, Hutch silently communicated.

Starsky's eyes conveyed his answer. _Guess they ran out of kids to play with._

Unaware of how lucky she'd just been she continued. "But… at the time I didn't care what it was."

"And now you do?" Hutch asked, slightly sceptical.

She looked back at him. "I just started using, Sergeant. So part of me could still think straight. My son… When he came in with those flowers?" She smiled again. This time her eyes grew moist. "He could hardly hold on to them. The bouquet's so big and he's so small."

She paused for a moment as she apparently tried to keep her voice from shaking. "It was the most beautiful sight I've ever seen," Helen sighed. "I knew then that I wanted to stop. But the…the man said if I'd just take my shot, I'd forget about the pain I was in. My… my soul would forget everything."

Hutch was too busy watching the distressed woman to notice the slight surprise forming on his partner's face upon hearing those last words. He also missed the uneasy glance Starsky shot at him a second later.

Helen glanced over at the body, which by now had been covered up. "I don't want it anymore…I… It hurts but…," she looked up at them again. "I just don't want my son to have… have a junky for a mother."

Out of the bedroom a curly headed boy was allowed to step into the room. He rushed over to his mother. It was the boy Hutch had met on the street. The blond suddenly understood where the money for the flowers had come from. He closed his eyes, held his hands up at Starsky conveying he would back out for a while, and walked out the door.

* * *

Innocently the boy stared after him, asking a frightened question, "Is he mad?"

"No," Starsky answered looking at the two of them. "Just a bit confused, that's all."

A uniform had told him earlier that the woman's son had been present in the house at the time of the murder. Luckily the boy had not seen a thing. The officers had wisely kept him in the bedroom until the body was covered up.

Starsky smiled and winked at the kid who had climbed onto his mother's lap. "Hey, that's a nice bunch of flowers you got for your mother!"

The boy gave him a big smile in return. "Think so?" He positively glowed as for a moment he'd apparently forgotten all about the horrible scene in front of him. "I got the biggest one I could find!"

Starsky looked up at Helen whose face now showed a weak smile. "They're beautiful kid, just beautiful."

* * *

**Chapter 9**

"You got anything?" Hutch asked from behind the steering wheel as Starsky jumped into the passenger's seat.

Starsky replied surly, "Feds kicked me out before I could question her." He stared questioningly at the apartment building. "They were really adamant, weird huh? I'm telling you Hutch, something doesn't feel right," the brunet turned to face him. "Anyway, Feds are in charge of her case now, I'm afraid the statement she gave us, is all we're going to get."

"Great," Hutch put his head back against the head rest and closed his eyes.

"Hey, the body was connected to the Forests, right?"

Without moving the blond answered, "Right." He took a deep breath. "He was the guy that went missing after we busted Ben, remember?

Starsky nodded. "Yeah. So, if Karl was doing this guy's supplying, then Karl's also the one doing the murders."

Hutch opened his eyes, glancing at his partner. "We don't have any proof of that, Starsk." He shook his head. "We're missing something here buddy. If Karl wants us so bad then why doesn't he show himself? Why all the killings, without letting us know he's doing them? And what's with this drug anyway?" He stopped; raising his head as an idea suddenly dawned on him. "It's almost like he's waiting for something. You don't think he's just… testing the drug, don't you?"

Starsky didn't look the least bit surprised when he spoke. "Experiments?"

"Yeah."

The blond suddenly became aware of a slight unease in his partner's demeanour, an unease that was quickly being covered up by a sudden rise in anger colouring Starsky's next words. "Maybe. One thing's for sure though… When we do go in, I want the Feds with me."

Hutch slowly sat up, turning at his partner in disbelieve. "What?"

"If you're right, he's playing with us. If this whole thing is a set up I want to have some decent back up."

"Starsk," Hutch frowned; his partner was not the kind of man to get scared. There were only a few circumstances in which he would, and these were not it. But despite the angry tones, right now that was exactly the way he looked… scared.

"And another thing," Starsky said, pinning him with his midnight blues. "Yes, I think those drugs are meant to do something really nasty, and I don't want _you _anywhere near them."

Hutch stared at him in dumb shock. His partner looked away. "Starsk, you know I'm not some rookie cop. I'm not stupid. What makes you think I would -," he stopped, as an answer to his own question was formed in his mind. "You _know_ I'm clean, don't you?"

Starsky's eyes snapped back onto his in irritation. "Yes, of course I know that. And you know I know. He sighed. "It's just… something Helen said. That's all. I keep having bad feelings about this case."

Hutch carefully studied his friend, knowing that wasn't the whole truth. "Yeah," he slowly agreed. "I know what you mean. So we'll be more careful this time round."

"Hey, I'm always careful." Starsky said sounding quite offended, but Hutch knew his curly headed partner was just trying to lighten the mood.

Hutch smiled sitting back again. "Well, we could always pay Karl a visit I guess…"

"When we have the evidence, we visit, not sooner," the brunet spoke, all of a sudden dead serious again. He reached for something in his back pocket."

Hutch frowned. Hearing those words coming from his partner's mouth almost seemed as if someone else was doing the talking. Starsky was usually the first to go pound on the perp's front door. Not now though, and he knew no amount of persuasion would change the brunet's mind. When his partner got stubborn, he got stubborn. Hutch closed his eyes knowing full well what his friend was doing. _He's doing his mother hen act again,_ he thought agitated, but decided to let it go for now.

"Starsky, even if the lab confirms the compound in the syringe found at Helen's matches the dope found in those kids, all we got is a very lucky girl and another dead body. What Starsk!" Annoyed he opened his eyes when his partner kept waving something in front of him.

Starsky smiled, triumphantly waving a small, leather bound book in his face.

Hutch looked at it. "Hey, an address book?"

"Yep, took it off your friend Jones right before the suits came in."

Before Hutch could drill his partner about the concept of withholding evidence from the Feds, Starsky had already picked up the transmitter. "Zebra three to Control, I'd like to check on an address… yeah. That's 125 Hillside Avenue. Thanks."

"We're not exactly going by the book this way," Hutch sighed again.

"It is by the book!" Starsky said with a wide grin, holding up the address book.

"Not funny Starsk."

"Oh stop complaining will ya. Can we get out of here? I'm liable to catch a cold just sitting here. This thing is drafting all over the place." This 'thing' meaning the LTD.

Hutch shot him a death glare before starting the engine. His mood dropping as fast as the weather did outside. It had started to rain again. The car sped off as he released his anger on the accelerator. For the second time that day Starsky was thrown backwards in his seat.

The brunet noticed Hutch's temper, and carefully said, "Hey, Blintz?"

Having to watch where he was driving at this speed, Hutch quickly glanced sideways.

Starsky continued seriously, "Perhaps you can save 'em all ..." and with those words he suddenly put up his right hand, showing a very sour looking daisy. Its white pedals and yellow heart drooping sadly as he wiggled it in front of Hutch with the grin again.

Hutch couldn't help himself; he had to laugh at that. His partner had obviously taken it from Helen's flower gift.

"I think it's too late for the flower though, partner."

"Yeah?" Starsky's expression changed into a sad one as he wiggled the pathetic little stem and gave the flower a scrutinized look. "Well… you win some, you loose some," he replied and stuffed the daisy in his partner's shirt pocket.

Hutch shook his head, forever wondering how Starsky always managed to cheer him up again.

* * *

**Tbc**


	5. Chapter 10 and 11

No warnings for these chapters, after this, things will start to go down hill. Thanks to the usual suspects. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 10**

_This early in the evening the restaurant was still empty. Starsky sat at one of the tables in the back, staring at the blue dog he'd just purchased. There was something there, he could feel it._

_He closed his eyes. For a fleeting moment he could touch it. _

_Concentrating, he opened his eyes and fixed them on the blue of the dog. It felt the same as just walking out of the door, and knowing you'd forgotten something, but you didn't know what. He closed his eyes again as suddenly a feeling came rushing up out of nowhere, a feeling of loss, of broken bonds._

_He started shaking, unable to pin down his thoughts or his feelings onto something substantial. _

"_Dave?"_

_Starsky snapped his eyes open. _

"_What is that?" Belinda stood in front of him, looking from the stuffed dog to her husband. "Are you all right?"_

_Starsky's voice shook when he spoke up softly, not looking away from the dog. "I'm missing something here, Bell. There's something wrong."_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Something…some…one," he gasped, tears almost welling up. He looked up at her. "Someone is missing…" _

_She frowned, concern flashing over her features. "Dave."_

_Starsky sighed. He couldn't pinpoint it. No need to worry his wife with these feelings. "I'm all right… Forget it, huh?"_

_Why couldn't he remember?_

_Deep, very deep inside, something stirred._

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Looking down at the newspaper clippings, an uncomfortable feeling started to nag at Hutch.

The address Starsky had found on the inside of the address book, turned out to belong to a quiet place in a residential area. Having made certain the house was empty; they'd carefully started digging for clues, and found the clippings in an old desk situated in what must have been the study in the back of the house.

A couple of the clippings lying in front of him were about the recent murders, a few about Forest's trial a while ago. But that wasn't what disturbed him the most. Lying on top of the clippings was a small piece of paper.

He hadn't felt like this since the night he'd picked up Forest's girlfriend. He knew something would happen to her then if he didn't help her get rid of that man. And he had been right, a lot of pain; a lot of anguish for the both of them. And he felt like that now.

He stared at the note, the writing on it making his blood run cold. The note simply stated an address, his address, on Ocean. A short three letter message was written underneath: _stop when delivered_.

His heart sank to his stomach as his mind read the truth behind those words. They had him targeted all along. And oh yes, they intended to stop their hits on those poor users, but only when they'd gotten what they wanted: him.

"Hutch."

Startled by his friend's call he looked up, quickly putting the note in his shirt pocket. If Starsky got wind of this he'd blow off the whole case. As much as he loved the brunet, he wouldn't let him mother-hen him to death.

His partner was studying a piece of writing paper situated on a small table near the telephone.

Hutch walked over and leaned in behind his partner to try and read the small print, written in nearly indecipherable hand writing. He whistled in surprise.

Starsky spoke up, keeping his eyes on the paper. "Yeah, we better get this to the lab. I'll bet you a million dollars that the things on this list mount up to the contents of those drugs."

"It's probably a grocery list for whoever had to do the shopping," Hutch stated uneasily, studying the ingredients. "This stuff is meant to kill, buddy."

Starsky looked up, apparently sensing Hutch's worries. "You mean those kids? I still think there's more to it than that… Something doesn't add up Hutch."

"It's a non-detectible killer Starsk, what more do you want? No wonder the Feds are interested in this." Hutch snapped.

Starsky rewarded him with a penetrating stare. For a moment Hutch was sure Starsky could see the note in his pocket. Hutch's features softened as he read the concern in the other's eyes. "Sorry."

Without saying a word the brunet slowly turned his attention to the paper again, thoughtfully turning it over. "Look what we have here: a delivery address."

Hutch followed his gaze. "Ben's old place?"

"Ain't that a surprise," Starsky remarked, and headed for the door.

"I thought a cavalry of Feds checked that place out?"

Starsky turned. "Right, so I figured we pay the FBI a little visit."

Hutch frowned. It wasn't like Starsky to use such an elaborate detour when he could get the information using a far more direct course of action.

"Starsky, we've got enough evidence to search the place ourselves."

His partner's silence wasn't lost on the blond, who immediately realized what was going on.

"Dammit Starsk, I can handle it! One way or the other these killings have to stop, Forest or no Forest. I'm a cop first!

Starsky walked over to him, grabbing his arm. "Look, something really weird is going on here, and I don't like where this investigation is heading. We could be walking into a trap."

"That's never stopped you before and you know it." Hutch stated cold.

A moment of silent communication passed between the two friends, before Starsky finally let go. "All right," he said. "But we're gonna clear this one with Dobey first, partner."

"Meaning we're going to get the cavalry to join us?"

"Yep."

Hutch didn't argue the point again, besides, if Karl really was bent on killing him, if this was a trap, having an entire contingency of federal agents at your back wasn't such a bad idea.

* * *

The next morning had all of them in place at Ben's estate, including the supposedly sufficient back up needed. Two cars were sitting beneath an elaborate overhang of trees just outside the driveway. 

"That's it?" Starsky eyed the men in disbelieve through the open passenger's window of the expensive looking black government car. "Just the two of you?"

The two black suited men sitting inside, who had introduced themselves as Special Agents Donalds and Michaels, were both slightly bald, and at least a decade Starsky's senior. Apparently they were all the FBI had to spare right now.

"It's of our opinion that this house is empty, Mr. Starsky." Donalds, sitting closest to him motioned to the large estate with its two wings and the elaborate gardens and swimming pool on the other side. "We checked it out ages ago."

"And what if it isn't, huh? It's big enough to hide the entire west coast syndicate for God's sake."

The agent rolled his eyes upwards. "Our men are good, Detective. They don't make mistakes."

Starsky leaned in closer. "Well, I hope you're right, 'cos if you're not, we'll all be walkin' into a trap."

"What's the matter," Donalds mocked. "Don't you trust us?"

"With the fate of this country? Yes. With our lives? No."

"Gentleman, gentleman," Michaels cut in. "This is getting us no where. Now, I suggest we quit the bickering, and go do our jobs. Sergeant, you and your partner take the back, there's a service entrance there that will lead you to the kitchen, that way you'll bypass main security, if there is any. Donalds and I will take the front. We're able to get in unnoticed. We'll meet in the middle. Any questions?

Starsky pulled back from the car window, letting the two men exit their car.

He didn't like this situation one bit. Something was off, way off, and the feeling of foreboding only grew stronger as he looked at his partner sitting in the Torino just up the road.

They had no tangible evidence whatsoever that Karl was after Hutch. All Starsky had, was his Detective's instinct coupled with Lilly's warning, and the name of a Forest. It wasn't enough to blow off the investigation.

Besides, professionally speaking they wanted these murders solved, regardless of the risks they had to take. And the blond's thoughts on this were the same, of that he was sure. It was what made him, made them both of them such good cops.

_Just another day on the job_, He thought grimly.

* * *

Through this all Hutch kept uncharacteristically silent. He watched his partner's heated discussion with Donalds from the safe position of the passenger's seat inside the Torino. Half the FBI's task force should be here to raid the house. However, the fact that there were only these two wasn't foremost on his mind. 

Slowly he dropped the radio receiver back into its cradle. The information Dobey had just given him over the radio, together with the note he carried in his pocket, mounted up to a conclusion he could no longer deny. Deep down inside he knew he was right.

He started to shiver ever so slightly. The horror of what had happened to him a few years ago at Ben Forest's hands still left its mark upon his body, mind and soul. Over time he'd learned to deal with it, with the cravings, the fear. He had to, after all, if he wanted to stay a street cop and partnered to Starsky. But now, current events were crashing through carefully, built up walls.

He thought back to his partner's previous actions, especially his mother henning. Starsky had suspected all along there was more to this drug then its killing capacity. He'd known it was really Hutch that Karl Forest was after.

_He probably knew way before me. I should've known. He all but physically tried to keep me from going anywhere near this house. No wonder he's giving those Fed boys such a hard time. Two of them is not gonna be enough. _

Hutch took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he thought of the lab results his Captain had just given him. The lab had been quite clear about one thing. The compound was meant to kill all right, but only the mind, not the body. It was a fate worse than slavery, worse than death. And it was what they had in store for him.

It scared the shit out of him.

But fear or not, he knew his duty.

His inner turmoil wouldn't settle down so easily though. It warned him, shouted at him, tried to protect him from doing something stupid. But just as he'd ignored Dobey's advice moments ago to cancel the search, he ignored these ominous feelings.

As much as Hutch hated the situation, he knew they needed to stop these senseless killings. And if that meant facing some ghosts from the past, and going into this house with too little back up, then so be it. As he'd said to Starsky before, he was a cop first.

* * *

**Tbc**


	6. Chapter 12 and 13

Thanks to the usual suspects, and to all of you who showed me their enthusiasm for this story.  
Things are getting a bit more intense from now on, I hope you enjoy it.

Jill: your bush plant is in here somewhere…

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 12**

Hutch exited the Torino to join his partner. "Are you ready?" he asked, taking the Magnum out of its holster and checking the rounds.

Starsky nodded, doing the same routine with his Beretta. "I am now. We take the back."

They made their way around the house, staying close to the perimeter, avoiding the tall windows and glass doors. After a minute or so they arrived at a small grey black door, which Starsky recognized from Donalds' description as the service entrance.

The brunet picked the lock using his pocket-knife. Carefully he opened the door to step inside, followed by his partner. They were greeted by a long empty wide grey corridor, bathed in a cold white light originating from strip lights hanging from the ceiling. The lights had turned on the moment they had opened the door. As the door closed softly behind them, they moved deeper into the corridor.

Hutch hesitated.

Starsky seemed to notice the lack of movement behind him, stopped and turned around. "What's the matter?"

The blond just looked at him. Obviously worried Starsky took the few steps back needed to get in line with his partner. "Are you all right?"

"Starsky…" He didn't know what to say, just what he suddenly felt; an overwhelming surge of impending doom.

Perhaps it was the silence of the empty bleak corridor in front of him, or perhaps it was just his partner's overly concerned behaviour these last few days. The way Starsky had insisted that something was wrong, that something would go wrong if they were to go in. Almost as if the brunet'd had a premonition…

And all of a sudden Hutch knew…he wouldn't be coming out again.

"Promise me…" he started, trying to accept the inevitable. "…if something happens to me, you get yourself out of there."

Starsky looked around, purposefully trying to ignore the subject. "What are you talking about? I'd never leave you and you know it. Besides, nothing's gonna happen. As Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck said, 'the house's probably empty'."

The joke was completely lost on the blond who grabbed him by the arm. "Starsky, I mean it. Promise me."

"No."

The short stated answer was followed by an unnerving silence, telling Hutch at once his partner was serious this time.

Starsky's eyes softened, putting his hand on the blond's, still resting on his arm. "You're shaking?"

Hutch pulled back. "Yeah…" Realizing they weren't going to go anywhere before the brunet had his answers Hutch delved into his shirt pocket to give him the note.

Starsky eyed him suspiciously before he began reading it. "'Stop when delivered'." He quoted. He looked up, crumpling the piece of paper, angrily throwing it onto the floor. "You think they're waiting for you? Is that it?"

Hutch didn't trust his voice enough to speak and looked down.

"And if they are? What? You're gonna… cooperate?

No answer came. Frustrated Starsky marched ahead a few paces. "What about," he turned, "me and thee… Huh? Buddy? What happened to that?"

Hutch still couldn't answer.

"Hutch, what would have happened if I had given in to Prudolm's demands, huh?

Hutch's head snapped up. "You did give in to his demands."

Starsky marched up to him. "Yeah, and if I recall this correctly, you wouldn't leave me then, partner. And I sure as hell won't leave you now, so you can drop the plan."

"It's not something I've planned, Starsk." Hutch retorted angry. "Believe me. I've got no intention of giving them anything, not if I can help it."

Now obviously close to panic Starsky's voice raised a couple of octaves. "What makes you so sure they're waiting for you up there, huh?"

"I just…"

Hutch's sad look convinced the brunet more than anything.

"…know."

"Fine, I'll call this off."

"No!" If we pull out now, more kids will end up dead. I'm a cop, Starsk. I'm going in!"

This time a silent Starsky conveyed the message that he wasn't convinced in the slightest. He looked away in anger. "Hutch, I can't let you…"

"Look, I won't give myself up without a fight. You know that. I'm not a fool, but if we don't do this now, the killings will go on. We owe it to those kids Starsk, to Micki, to Helen. We can't let ourselves be intimidated by the Prudolms and the Forests, or any number of criminals walking the streets out to get us."

Starsky turned his head to face him again. Although fury mixed with worry was still evident in his eyes, his voice was soft when he spoke. "All right, but I'm not going to let you out of my sight, blondie."

Hutch gave him a grim smile.

"And quit with the doomsday talk. That can get ya killed." Starsky sighed, looking his partner straight in the eye. He reached for the radio. "This is Zebra Three, we're in position.

His partner didn't see Hutch closing his eyes behind him in resignation. He proceeded to unlock the safety of his Magnum. Starsky was right. This kind of thinking could get him killed. Or worse, get his partner killed. Better to keep focussed in the next couple of minutes.

Through years of experience he managed to lock away the dread as the cop took over.

Starsky spoke four more words into the radio. "We're going in."

* * *

**Chapter 13**

The long grey corridor exited upon a massive kitchen. Pots and pans which had once been shining brightly with the spark of freshly cleaned kitchen utensils, now hung unused from the ceiling. Their copper and metallic colours dull with a years worth of dust. Behind him, Starsky heard his partner coughing as the man accidentally brushed passed one of the pans, creating a dust cloud that viciously settled down on the blond.

The brunet turned to shoot his partner a shushing look.

"It looks like Donalds is right," Hutch whispered. "This place hasn't been used in ages."

"Uhuh," Starsky agreed, while walking up to the big doors separating the kitchen from the dining room, purposefully keeping his partner behind him. Hutch sure had picked a fine time to show him that note. They both knew they had no choice but to ignore it right now and go through with the plan. _But when we get back Hutchinson, you and I will need to have a long talk_.

None surprisingly the dining room was also empty. The soft red carpet dampened his footsteps as he motioned for Hutch to follow him through sheet covered chairs and tables, over to the other side of the room where they reached a couple of ceiling-high, oak wood doors. He eyed the blond, telling him he was ready to face whatever was behind it.

Hutch pushed the doors open, revealing the grant entrance hall. Right across from them the front oak wood doors stood wide open. A white woollen carpeted staircase leisurely wound its way upstairs. There wasn't a living soul in sight.

"Where the hell are Donalds and Michaels?" Starsky whispered, stepping onto the white tiled marble floor. "We should have met them by now."

"Maybe they went upstairs." Hutch guessed.

Starsky decided to check the stairs first, before searching the rest of the ground floor. He walked over, carefully looking up. He knew Hutch wanted to make sure the only other adjoining room, which apparently led deeper into the house, was empty. Sure enough he sensed his partner walking over to it.

But the moment Hutch did that, the massive, oak wood front doors behind them drew to a close. Starsky standing with one foot on the stairs, his head still craned upwards, snapped around upon the sound vibrating through the entire building. Two guys build like sumo wrestlers were standing guard in front of it, aiming their semi automatics.

Diving behind a pillar, Starsky was just in time to see his partner diving into the room he'd been heading for, before all hell broke loose around them. The bullets of the automatics shattered tables, vases and pictures alike. Between the flying projectiles the brunet managed to take aim and return the fire.

The Sumos took cover behind another pillar, focussing their attention on the room Hutch had dived into. The moment Starsky saw him peeking around the corner, they started shooting again, forcing his partner to pull back. Strangely enough they left Starsky alone.

Suddenly he heard his partner's gun go off a couple of times. _Damn,_ he thought. _Someone_ _must be pinning him down from the other side of that room. _

A shadow above him alerted him just in time to look up and see Donalds standing at the top of the stairs, firing at the doorpost behind which Hutch had taken position. _Surprise, surprise, _He thought bitter, firing two shots in Donalds' direction, forcing the Agent to stop shooting and take cover. _I bet the one pinning Hutch down is Michaels. _

Donalds came out of hiding and started aiming for the doorpost again.

_Why the hell is he ignoring me?_

Starsky figured out what was happening the moment he tried to get to Hutch. They were trying to separate them. They were all slowly drawing into Hutch's location. He heard his partner fire round after round. He counted them, two, three, four... The sound of the Magnum made his heart clench in fear every time he heard it. Starsky was still being ignored, except for the Sumos, who were obviously meant to keep him in his place.

He suddenly realized that if he didn't help Hutch soon he would be too late.

Determined to get at his partner's side Starsky let his police instinct take over. He fired a couple of shots at the Sumos as he dove from behind the pillar to an elaborate large marble flower pot which housed a palm from floor to ceiling. Heaving, he heard Hutch's fire stop and Starsky knew his partner had momentarily run out of bullets.

Making a split second decision he yelled to get everybody's attention, rolled, came up, shot a round, rolled and ran, managing to get into the room Hutch had taken cover in. The room was big, its floor was covered with an elaborate plush yellow carpet, a few small mahogany tables told him this was just another hall way. He looked at his partner standing just behind the door.

"Starsky…" Hutch whispered, having reloaded the Magnum. "I've only got a few rounds left."

Starsky nodded grimly as he changed the clip on the Berretta, fishing a spare out of his jacket and locking it in place. "Where's Michaels?"

"Making sure we don't try anything in that direction." Hutch said eying the door opposite of where they both had entered. "And I don't think he's the only one back there."

Starsky wondered for a moment what kept these guys from moving in, unless they wanted them alive… and in one piece. It wasn't much of an advantage, but it could give them, give Hutch, a fighting chance. "Run for the front door, I'll cover you."

Hutch looked at him. "I'm not gonna leave you here."

"They're after you, blue eyes."

"Forget it."

"They're under orders not to hit you, and they're ignoring me. I'll try and keep Michaels and Donalds here off our backs and you do the same with the Sumos over there. We'll both be out of this place in no time."

Although he let Hutch take a moment to gauge their chances, Starsky knew they really didn't have any choice. They could try and work their way past Michaels or go back through the diner, only to run into God knew how many others. Whoever had set this up had covered all their escape routes. Of that he was sure. Their only real option was the front door. "All right," Hutch said. "On three."

Starsky studied his friend. There was something in his eyes he hadn't seen often. Fear. It wasn't like Hutch, not like him at all.

"Ready?" the blond asked, unlocking the safety of his Magnum once again.

"Ready," Starsky answered.

On his partner's silent mouthed 'three', they burst into the entrance hall. Starsky slammed the door closed behind him with his foot, effectively shutting out Michaels. Donalds tried to keep his eyes on Hutch but failed when Starsky's fire nicked the gun out of his hand.

The brunet noticed with satisfaction that he had been right, neither of the Sumos tried to actually hit them. They just tried to keep them pinned. Nevertheless, one of them was closing in on his position alarmingly fast.

Hutch managed to disable the Sumo still standing closest to the door with a calculated shot in the leg. He took another dive, brought up his gun coming out of the head roll, and stopped.

Starsky, too busy at his own end was momentarily distracted as he saw his partner frozen in the middle of the entrance hall, aiming at an unseen foe hidden from the brunet's view by a wide, white pillar. "Hutch!" He yelled. "What are you doing!"

His partner slowly raised the gun out of firing range.

Without the blond's back up fire Starsky knew they were fighting a loosing battle. He suddenly found Donalds walking over to Hutch, who quickly took aim at the man.

"You don't want us to kill him, now do you Hutchinson?" A new voice spoke up.

This one sounded achingly familiar. It wasn't Ben Forest. But he sounded enough like him to send shivers up the brunet's spine. Refraining from shooting, Starsky never lost his aim as he came up from his covered position and slowly walked over to his partner. He tried to keep his eye on the still standing Sumo, on Donalds, and on Michaels who had reappeared when the fire had stopped, now all closing in on his partner.

He took a second to look at the door. There stood the curly headed boy, guarding it with the innocent look of a child; an elderly man was loosely holding onto the boy's arm.

Reaching his partner Starsky felt him tremble, felt Hutch's gun tremble. "Hutch," he hissed, recognizing the man as Karl Forest.

"I can't do it, Starsk," Hutch spoke hoarsely. "I can't let them kill that boy…"

He nodded slightly. They were both fighters, both too much a cop to quit and give up when a situation looked hopeless. He knew Hutch would go on, would want to go on… until death. But… the boy…

Starsky looked over to the doors again. They were effectively surrounded, but it didn't diminish the effect of support he threw into his voice as he said, "Whatever you do… it's up to you."

Hutch looked back at him, giving him an almost imperceptible nod, and closed his eyes. He turned his head to look at Karl, and slowly lowered his gun. "All right," he said to the man. "All right…"

Starsky put his hand on Hutch's arm as he grimly let the Beretta being taken out of his hands.

* * *

The boy recognized the blond man. Looking at him he felt strange, knowing that what was happening was wrong. He saw both of them lowering their guns, and his lower lip started to tremble. That man had been nice to him. It had been a long time since anyone had been nice to him. 

Within seconds the two were taken outside, and hauled up inside a truck.

It was wrong… It was very wrong…

* * *

**Tbc**


	7. Chapter 14 and 15

Author's note: I found these 'explaination chapters' as I call them, very hard to write. Feedback is therefore highly appreciated.

Wuemsel, thank you for your supporting comments on these chapters you gave me a while ago. Also, thank you Strut for doing the same, and for introducing me to the world of quotes.

Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 14 **

Pacing the floor, Starsky was angrily looking at the door, yelling at the dead piece of wood for the tenth time that day.

"Will you please sit down, they're not going to hear you," Hutch begged, also for the tenth time.

"What good does it do them to kidnap us, and then leave us alone for hours on end? I'm hungry! HEY, YOU HEAR THAT? I'M HUNGRY!"

"Starsk!"

With a dull thud Starsky sat down on the cot next to his partner, finally relenting to the situation. The room was a medium sized one. Square, with no windows. All it contained was the small cot they both currently occupied, an old hole riddled woven blanket covering the dirty mattress.

For the hundredth time that day, Starsky berated himself for not turning back the moment he realized Donalds and Michaels were all the backup they were going to get, for not having pulled the plug on the whole operation when Hutch had shown him that note, for not listening to his feelings, to his partner's feelings. _Dammit, _in hindsight, they'd both known something was wrong but sometimes they were just too much a cop to let go. "Dirty Feds, Hutch… they were playing us along."

Lilly's warning now seemed frighteningly close, frighteningly real. _Something's going to get to him. _He looked over at his partner, who appeared far too calm considering the circumstances. Hutch was still in cop mode.

"Starsky, you knew way before me that something like this was going to happen, I think it's time to confess, buddy."

_Uh, oh, now he's in interrogation mode. _Throwing a hand in the air in resignation, Starsky sighed. "I got a warning the other night at Huggy's. I met this women right after you left."

His partner's silence didn't make his confession any easier. Taking a deep breath he continued. "She had this … premonition, I think. She told me something was going to get to you." He purposefully left out the 'his future feels very lonely' bit, the part that worried him the most. The part that Starsky vowed would never come true.

Hutch stood up, and walked over to the door. He turned. "That's why you've been acting all weird lately, huh?"

Starsky didn't answer.

"You could've told me, partner."

"It wasn't something Huggy hadn't already told us, besides I know you. You don't believe in that mumbo jumbo. Remember that vampire guy? You were laughing at me so loud; you almost choked on your garlic."

"I also remember Collandra," Hutch whispered.

The soft, serious voice that was Hutch, not the cop, surprised the brunet. Collandra had been a psychic who'd helped them locate a missing girl. They'd found her exactly where he told him she was, making Lilly's story all the more plausible. Starsky looked up to find his partner looking at him silently. Without ever having to think about it, he knew the blond was scared. "Hutch, its not gonna happen."

Hutch looked away, avoiding eye contact. "They got to me the first time, Starsk."

With a sinking feeling Starsky suddenly realized what his partner was talking about. "They're not gonna fix you up."

"What if they do?"

"Listen to me, Hutch! Hey!"

Unable to resist the urgency in Starsky's voice, Hutch irritably snapped his eyes onto his partner again.

"Answer me this. When you were kicking it, back in Huggy's room, you would've given anything for just a sniff of the stuff, right?"

A curt nod was all the brunet got out of him. "You'd even given up your life for it, right?"

"What's your point, Starsk?" Hutch snapped.

Not being deterred by the anger in the blond's voice, Starsky continued. "Would you've given up _my_ life for it?"

No answer.

"Hutch!"

"What!"

"Would you've sold me out, huh? When you'd gotten the chance?"

"No… yes… I don't know!"

He wanted to look away, but Starsky was determined to hold his gaze. "You don't know?"

"No! No, I wouldn't have, Starsk! Not even for that. I couldn't. You know that!"

"Hutch, that's crazy, we've seen addicts selling out their husbands, their wives, children, friends. All for the benefit of that one glorious moment the funny little white stuff will give them! So why didn't you, huh? What makes you so all mighty resistant?"

Hutch stared at him as if he were the enemy. "I didn't, Starsky! Isn't that enough? I wanted to knock your lights out, back in that room, dammit, and I didn't! Again, what's your point?"

Starsky gave a soft smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

As Hutch was kicking the dope, he had all but destroyed the room. He'd even gone for the door once or twice. Starsky knew that realistically speaking, Hutch could have waltzed right over him, could have floored him in order to easily cross that threshold into a world from which the brunet would not have been able to get him out again. But his partner had never resorted to such measures. Every time Starsky jumped between him and that door, Hutch had turned back. "That's exactly the point Hutch, nothing can get to you, as long as this connection we're seem to be havin' is there. It stopped you, didn't it?"

"Yes."

Silence descended for a few seconds.

"Lilly had a word for it; she said we were 'soul bonded'."

Hutch sighed. "I know that." The statement came as casual as the similar one Starsky had given Delilah. "It doesn't mean I can read minds, you should have told me about Lilly, partner."

The brunet smiled again, sensing some of the tension seeping away from the blond. Strangely enough it made him calm down some what too. "Yeah, well… You could've told me about that note, buddy. Guess that makes us even."

"Some good that's gonna do us. We better start concentrating on finding a way out here."

"Yeah," Starsky knew Dobey was probably looking for them. But he doubted they'd be found any time soon. The truck had taken quite some time to reach its destination, and when it finally had, they'd been blindfolded. Apart from the notion that they were in a basement, he didn't have a clue as to where they were.

For the thousandth time that day his mind focussed on just one thought. He had to get Hutch out of here… Fast.

* * *

**Chapter 15**

The sound of enclosing footsteps drew his attention. Hutch warned the brunet to stay quiet, before turning away from the door as it was being unlocked.

As many as four men stepped inside. Starsky stood up to stand next to his partner. "Well, if it ain't the duck boys and their uncle Karl," he mocked.

Hutch recognized Donalds, Michaels, Karl, and one of the Sumos as they tactically positioned themselves around him and his partner.

"Can the smart mouth, Detective, or we'll shut it up for you," Michaels threatened.

Hutch could tell Starsky was about to retort in a nasty way, and managed to stop him with a slight shake of his head.

Karl made his way over to the blond, ignoring Starsky completely. The resemblance to Ben Forest was uncanny. Karl however, was slightly taller, thinner, and obviously quite a bit older. His grey eyes were sparkling with intelligence. Slightly greying hair and harsh facial features told Hutch he was not to be underestimated.

Stepping in close to him, Karl looked the blond up and down. Hutch stood his ground, facing the man, who now wore a smirk on his face. "Detective Hutchinson, I presume? You might have heard of me? Ben's brother?"

"What do you want, Karl," Starsky rudely interrupted him.

The man's eyes never left the blond's. "I'm looking at it."

When Starsky's fist shot out, Michaels instantly raised his gun. Starsky's wrist, however, got caught in Hutch's hand.

Their eyes met briefly, the silent conversation that ensued only taking a split second as the brunet turned his anger onto his partner. _What the hell are you doing?_

_Starsk, don't... They'll take you out._

_Hutch._

_I need you with me… Please._

A nearly imperceptible nod followed, and Starsky backed off.

Karl frowned, turning towards the brunet. "Detective Starsky, you're a hard man to separate from your partner, though we've tried."

As Starsky wisely kept his silence, the older Forest looked back at Hutch again, who awarded him with an icy stare.

"Want to tell us what's going on, exactly?" Hutch could sound very cold if he wanted to.

Karl's smug answer almost made him want to puke. "Did you like my little trail of bodies? The trouble we had to go through to get you here."

Starsky retorted angrily, "Don't give us that crap, Karl. We know you used them for your sick little drug experiments."

Donalds, standing behind Starsky, smiled. "The boy is clever, boss."

Karl gave the brunet a sly smile. "Well, we killed two birds with one stone, really. First off, I needed this drug tested. And secondly, I knew our little experiments resulting in the unfortunate deaths of the subjects, would lead you straight to me. If you hadn't come we would have… kept the trail fresh, off course."

Karl pulled a vial from his inside pocket. "This is the only sample of the finished version we were able to make." He held the small bottle up against the lonely light bulb. "Beautiful, isn't it? It contains just enough of the stuff to do what it's supposed to do, without killing."

"Without killing?" Starsky asked incredulously.

Karl looked down, focussing his attention entirely on the brunet this time. "Detective Starsky, The killings were a necessary step in the development of this drug. However, this final version is meant to be far more sophisticated, leaving you perfectly alive."

Hutch couldn't help but shiver slightly. He knew very well what the drug was capable of. Dobey had told him. However, before he could speak up, his partner was already uttering a threat of his own. The anger in his voice betrayed the fact that he had instantly understood the horrific implications of the drug.

"Dead or alive, it doesn't matter, 'cos we're on to you, and you're little experiments. Vice will close down this entire operation of yours in no time."

"That's where you're wrong." Karl smiled, sounding far too self confident for Hutch's liking.

"After we've tested a drop of this stuff, Donalds and Michaels over here will take the rest of it home with them. The Feds will take over. They have no official knowledge of the … say, sacrifices which were necessary to create the drug. They will order the cops to drop the investigation to protect their investment and voila… I'm a free man."

"T'riffic." Starsky murmured, obviously realizing their chances for survival had just dropped dead.

"So," Karl's smile died on his lips. "That leaves us all set up, except for one thing."

"What's that?" Starsky asked warily.

His eyes filling with hate, the older Forest turned to Hutch again.

Hutch knew what was to come. Inwardly he swallowed, hard.

"We just need one last test subject."

* * *

**Tbc.**


	8. Chapter 16 and 17

**Thanks** to all of you who've been waiting behind their computers for this update. You know who you are.

Okay, I won't keep you in suspense any longer. Enjoy.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 16**

"Now, I know at least one of you remembers this." A cruel smile formed upon Karl's lips as he pulled out a small dope kit from his inside pocket. He opened it, clearly showing the equipment necessary to string a person out.

"You dirty bastard." Starsky said, his words containing a bitter anger. He felt Hutch tense up.

The smile on Karl's face faded as he did not get the reaction from the blond he'd anticipated. Nothing in Hutch's demeanour showed any signs of noticeable shock. Just the icy stare.

But Starsky saw quite a different feature when he had torn his angry stare away from Karl to look at his partner. He saw a slightly paling face. And when he locked eyes, deep within the ocean blues, a small pool of fear connected with him.

There was only one thing stronger than the brunet's instinct for survival, and that was his fierce protectiveness over Hutch. Before Karl's man could even have hoped to stop the enraged man, Starsky had dived forwards, awarding Forest with two connecting fists, one across his face, while the other one knocked the kit out of his hands.

Hutch immediately went for Michaels, but froze mid step when a 9 mm was staring him in the face.

"Hold it or he buys it," Michaels ordered the brunet, keeping his gun trained on Hutch.

Starsky, having Karl's arm locked around the back, let him go.

The man shrugged his arm free and turned around. His eyes were blazing with a cold fire while his cheekbone was beginning to colour a sickly yellow as he put his face inches from the brunet's.

The dark haired Detective, whose hatred for the man would've made a lesser man crumble beneath his stare didn't move an inch. When he saw Hutch slowly raising his hands, backing away from the gun, Starsky broke eye contact with Karl, not showing any signs of defeat in the least.

"Hold him Donalds!" Karl shouted angry at the agent still standing behind the brunet. Donalds viciously pulled his hands behind his back.

"You'll never get away with this, Karl!" Starsky snapped. "Kidnapping two cops ain't exactly bright. But I guess it's a family trait. Your brother wasn't all too bright either. He had to figure that out the hard way."

Karl picked up the kit from the floor. He straightened himself while looking at the big mouthed Detective. A cold voice, devoid of any emotion returned the kindness. "Oh, you're so right. My brother was stupid. He only got one cop." He turned to the blond who was standing near the cot.

Hutch looked from the gun to the kit, and finally into Karl's eyes.

Starsky felt dread replacing the anger in the pit of his stomach as Forest continued.

"I got two." Karl stepped forwards.

Hutch took an involuntary step backwards.

Michaels stepped in, cutting off the blond's escape route.

Starsky tried to pull free. "You lousy excuse for a creep!" His anger was fighting battles with his fear, the outcome being a couple of spitfire indigo eyes, and an almost successful attempt to break free. However, Donalds at once tightened his hold over him, making his arms feel as if they were encased in concrete. "I'll hunt you down Karl, if it's the last thing I'll do!"

He locked eyes with Hutch who'd taken another step back, fear becoming apparent in each step he made. Once again Starsky tried to wrench free, but to no avail, succeeding only in nearly pulling his arms out of its sockets.

Karl nodded at the Sumo standing a little off to the side. The large man stepped forwards to grab Hutch, roughly pushing him down onto the cot. The gun, now trained on Starsky, kept the blond from attempting any kind of a struggle.

With a bitter taste in his mouth the brunet was forced to watch how his partner had to resign himself to Karl's wishes. Until the Sumo pulled out the blind fold… and Hutch went ballistic.

"No!" he exclaimed, voicing a deep guttural sound originating from deep within. Strong as an ox when he wanted to be, the blond lashed out at the surprised Sumo.

Hutch's fear wrecked Starsky to the core, but he couldn't move. He couldn't do anything.

Michaels had lowered the gun in order to help the Sumo restrain the now frantic Detective. After a short struggle they managed to put on the blindfold. Finally they had him silenced. Hutch's muscles were trembling underneath the restraining iron fists, his heavy breathing breaking the still air.

Starsky pressed his lips together in anger. This was exactly how they'd managed to inject him the first time. Hutch, reluctantly at first had finally told him about it. He was not going to let it happen a second time. Not while he, Starsky, was alive and breathing.

Karl had pulled out the needle to fill it with the content of the vial. Michaels wrenched the blond's left arm free, pulling up the sleeves of the black and white shirt, and the green shirt underneath. Karl professionally settled the needle just above the vein.

All of sudden a cold voice shattered the air, "Don't touch him."

The words echoed off the bare brick walls, and back into the hollow cell.

Karl stopped the needle from going in. A smug smile appeared on his face. "Oh?"

"Give it to me."

"Starsk." Hutch's head snapped up.

Ignoring the blond, Karl turned around to face the brunet, while holding up the syringe. "This is pretty new stuff. It's never been tested before.

"Give," Starsky stated cold, his voice devoid of all emotion.

"Starsky, what are you doing?" Hutch hissed. Though he couldn't see a thing, he faced straight into his partner's direction.

Karl's smile grew wider as he obviously enjoyed the blond's distress at this new turn of events. Waving his hand, he allowed Michaels to remove the blind fold.

Starsky's eyes flashed over to his partner's teary ones. _I'm doing this for you, buddy. Don't try to stop me._

Hutch opened his mouth to say something but Starsky quickly looked away. His mind was set. He rolled up his sleeve, putting out his arm.

"No, you can't! Dammit, Starsky!"

Hutch's hoarse voice penetrated the Detective's determination, but he managed to ignore it as he spoke up, the bitterness dripping from his words, "Just don't touch him.

Karl's frozen laugh and stone grey eyes were momentarily fixed on Starsky's midnight blues. Then he stepped in closer, grabbing the raised arm. Slowly he put the needle in. "You know," he said, whispering into the brunet's ear, while pushing the drug slowly into the vein. "This stuff will make you forget… everything, literally."

"No," Hutch shook his head, his voice devoid of all energy as Michaels, Donalds and the Sumo backed away, "Starsk."

Karl pulled the needle out. "Before the hour is up, you're gonna wish it was your partner we injected." He smiled. He nodded at his men. Quietly, they all left the room.

The door closed behind them. Silence fell.

Starsky stood very still. Then he slowly started to shake from head to toe. "Hutch," he whispered. He felt Hutch's arms supporting him, just a few seconds before the world went black.

* * *

"You okay?" 

"Do I look okay?" Starsky answered gruffly as Hutch helped him to sit up on the cot. "How long was I out?"

"Fifteen minutes… Starsk, what d' you have to do that for, huh?"

Swallowing a couple of times, the brunet tried to get rid of the dizziness which had somehow manifested itself as soon as he'd sat up straight. "I don't know, it seemed to be-"

"A good idea at the time, yeah, yeah," Hutch finished, gently holding on to his partner.

Starsky gave a deep sigh. "It's not too bad, as long as I don't try anything fancy… Like move." He looked at his partner's worried face. "I'm all right, for now, really."

Hutch led his hand slide from his partner's shoulder as he stood up. "The man said an hour, Starsk." He started to pace the floor of the basement in frustration. "One hour… that's how long I've got to get you out of here."

"Hutch," he recognized the blond's mood. Gone was the silent resignation. The fighter within had taken control. It was a part of his partner which Starsky didn't see often, which he never enjoyed seeing. It was a reckless part which would stop at nothing to save the brunet, even if it would cost the blond his life, and that was what frightened Starsky the most.

He remembered the time when he'd been poisoned by Vic Bellamy. When they'd chased him up to that roof, Hutch had simply refused to fire. If Starsky hadn't followed them up there…

God, he hated to think about what would have happened. Images of doom scenarios were still haunting him at times. If there was anything worse than knowing he was going to be dead in a few hours, or than the pain the poison was putting him through, it would be to watch his friend die. The choice was his to make back then. Now, he wasn't so sure. "What do you know about this drug?"

His partner stopped his frantic pacing, only to slam his fist into the wood of the door.

"Hutch."

"It's a drug containing compounds used for brainwashing. Lab checked it out as being highly destructive on the mind, especially the long term memory."

"Meaning what, exactly?"

The blond turned to face his partner, for a moment looking quite vulnerable. "Starsky, it means it'll wipe your memory clean."

Starsky stared at him before softly asking his next question. "To what level?"

Hutch took a few seconds before levelling with his partner. "They couldn't tell me, whether it's just the memories or… something more."

"More?" The brunet's voice sounded smaller by the second.

"Like Karl said, it's never been tested."

"Well," Starsky managed to say. "At least I'll still be alive."

A silence fell between them.

Starsky's own words from an hour ago came back to mind. _Nothing can get to us, as long as this connection we seem to be having is there. _Focussing on those words, and putting his trust in them, he felt slightly better.

A noise coming from behind the door made both man turn towards it simultaneously.

"Is someone there?" Hutch called. The soft sound of moving feet made him try again. "Hello?"

"It's me, remember me?"

"It's that kid," Starsky whispered urgently. "The one you gave the money to for the flowers."

"Yeah," Hutch spoke gently. "Yeah, I remember you. What's your name?" He moved closer to the door.

"Tommy."

"Tommy, you think you can help us get out of this room?"

"I'm not supposed to talk to you, but you can have this."

Something small was shoved underneath the wood of the door. Hutch picked it up, showing it to the brunet: a pocket-knife. He was about to thank the boy when the lack of sound indicated Tommy had already left.

"Now, how do you suppose he got here?" Hutch asked.

"You think Karl just took him?"

"They wouldn't have let him run around free if he was their prisoner, Starsk."

"No, I suppose not. I guess Helen hasn't been quite honest with us about her connections … to … Karl," Starsky stammered as a feeling of vertigo suddenly hit him.

Hutch frowned, before quietly walking over to sit down next to him. "Hey, are you all right?"

The brunet was unable to answer for a second as everything seemed fuzzy. He felt Hutch pulling him in. Starsky let him. The warmth did him good driving out some of that stone cold feeling which seemed to freeze his insides, the dizziness lifted. "Yeah, 'm okay… 'm okay."

"Hang in there buddy," Hutch soothed, and then gently let him go to walk over to the door. "We'll be out of here in no time."

After a couple of minutes, Starsky started to feel slightly better. He was about to stand up when his vision suddenly blurred. In reflex he grabbed his head with both hands as vertigo was washing over him again in slow unrelenting waves.

God, this was bad.

The waves suddenly subsided, leaving a tight feeling behind his ears and eyes. He carefully removed his hands to look up and froze.

Where the hell was he? The cold dark, damp room didn't resemble anything familiar; and the man by the door…"

A feeling suddenly stirred, strong, powerful, snapping angrily back in place.

Starsky almost forgot to breathe as he recognized his surroundings again. He looked up at Hutch, thoroughly shaken as in that one horrible moment the drug's full ugly potential had shown itself.

It wasn't just erasing the memory… It was lashing onto his feelings, his emotions, and it went deep, touching something which had angrily struck back, which he hadn't even known was there, his soul, his very being… and his connection to Hutch.

"Hutch," he whispered.

* * *

**Chapter 17**

Hutch, who was busy trying to unlock the door with the boy's pocket knife, gave the brunet a quick look. He ceased what he was doing when he saw the stricken look on his partner's face.

"I forgot…" Starsky couldn't help but feel utterly confused and suddenly something happened that hadn't happen to him in years. Panic set in. "I forgot … who you were," he continued with a slight tremble in his voice.

Hutch walked over to him, determination obvious in every step. "I'm not going anywhere," he spoke softly, touching the brunet's hand in comfort.

Looking up, Starsky suddenly felt the reassuring feelings those words usually evoked slip. "No… oh God… Hutch," grunting he closed his eyes and opened them again, only to look into a pair of blue eyes he had never seen before.

He jerked his hand back.

"Starsk… fight it. Come on."

Feelings were racing, colliding, coursing through his body as Starsky fought to keep his identity, his life, his very soul from drowning. He fought… hard, until he began to recognize the eyes again. Tears were streaming down his face, he started to shake, uncontrollably and found his partner grabbing hold of both his hands.

"You're with me?" Hutch asked hoarse.

Starsky nodded.

"Come on, I cracked the door." He pulled the brunet up from the cot, bent on getting him out of here.

They got as far as the corridor when two men suddenly came into view. Hutch didn't give them a chance.

Baffled, Starsky looked at the two unconscious men, their weapons lying useless next to them on the floor. "Remind me never to cross you when you're angry," He said, slightly bemused.

Hutch returned the attempted humor with a wry smile, throwing his partner a gun, and taking one for his own, taking the extra clips he found in the man's pant pocket with him. "You still know how to use this, don't you?" He asked hesitantly.

"There are some things you never forget," the brunet replied.

They both stood in silence for a moment as Starsky was focussing on his partner, trying desperately to hold on, and needing every ounce of willpower to do it. He grabbed Hutch's arm. "Hurry," he mumbled.

They ran through the dark, dimly lit corridor until they reached some small stairs. Carefully taking the concrete steps one at the time, they emerged into a wide open storage space of what seemed to be an abandoned factory. A large rusty, iron shipping arm loomed overhead. Old rotten crates were stacked to the side. Starsky squinted as he turned his head towards the two wide open hangar doors, letting in the white glare of sharp, clear daylight just a few dozen meters away from them.

Keeping to the sides, they started to make their way towards it. They were only halfway, when a shot echoed through the facility.

His police instinct made the brunet dive behind a small pile of crates along with his partner.

Heaving, he noticed Karl's men were running over the iron walkway located all along the inner rim of the storage area, two stories from the ground. The footsteps of their assailants bouncing of the grid created a cold iron sound which seemed to be coming from all around them. The men headed for the iron ladders to work their way down to ground level.

Time seemed to run out. Starsky acted on instinct and experience, pulling back towards the doors as the FBI Agents and half a dozen Sumos started to close them in. They were forced to return fire as bullets bounced of the crates, indicating near misses at him and Hutch.

Hutch changed the empty clip. Starsky saw the blond carrying a look of fierce determination in his eyes as he fired again to keep the Sumos of their backs. Then the feelings got confused. Why was this stranger defending him?

He closed his eyes momentarily, then opened them, remembering, feeling, recognizing again. The brunet shook his head, trying to clear it, trying not to loose his center.

He looked up. "Hutch, get down!" Starsky pulled him to the ground just in time as one of the men nearly got his partner square in the back. Deadly accurate, he shot the assailant in the shoulder.

With a sinking feeling he realized the Sumos were ignoring him, again.

* * *

Hutch started to sweat as the man came in from all around them. 

They were close to the exit now. The door was still clear. But the blond wasn't a fool, he knew walking out of here unharmed was going to be a problem, having noticed from the very beginning that the fire was focused mainly on him. Karl obviously thought Starsky wasn't too much of a threat anymore as the drug must surely be kicking in soon.

From his covered position behind one of the crates, he shot bullet after bullet. Looking sideways he saw his partner doing the same. "Starsky!" he yelled, more as a statement than as a question.

Starsky shot him a glance, strength had returned in his eyes for the moment. "What?" he asked distracted.

"Get out!"

"What?" Bewildered the brunet stopped shooting.

"You heard me!" Hutch yelled again. He had to get his partner out of here. He couldn't let Forest have his way. He couldn't let him get his hands on the brunet again… ever."

"Are you crazy?" Starsky yelled fiercely, moving over to grab Hutch's shoulder, and angrily jerking him around to face him. Hutch, who'd still been firing, suddenly found himself looking into his partner's eyes. The blue fire locked within them, seemed to flare up as Starsky spoke again, punctuating every word. "They're gonna kill you!"

Hutch looked at him for a moment. "Starsk…" he whispered.

Then the hailstorm of bullets intensified. With force, born out of desperate determination, Hutch threw Starsky off of him towards the doors. Starsky stumbled backwards, taken by surprise he nearly tripped over his own feet, almost crashing into a crate.

Hutch darted over to another crate, away from his partner. "GET… OUT!" he yelled again, feeling a familiar sting in his eyes. But he couldn't give in to that, not now. From somewhere he found the strength to fire again. The return fire on his position was deafening, drowning everything out.

* * *

Starsky did not want to leave his partner, who had moved a dozen feet away from him, drawing in all the fire. Desperate now, he tried to get back to him "HUTCH, NO! I WON"T LET YOU DO THIS! DAMMIT… HUTCH!" 

Bullets intended to keep the two men separated, forced him back. Starsky fired as he couldn't help but being forced towards the door. "HUTCH!" panic set in as he saw his partner fighting a loosing battle.

He took a step forwards, but suddenly his whole world turned upside down as the drug kicked in. The sudden memory loss stalled him, halted him in his tracks. He groaned, swallowing away the overwhelming nausea, desperately trying to hold on to his partner's voice, to the words he kept hearing, _get out!_

In the midst of his confusion, one of the men got a clear shot… and fired.

Starsky saw his partner go down. It jolted his feelings, his heart. "NO!" He fired, taking out the man who'd shot his partner.

Hutch was down on his knees, still firing. The image locked itself inside Starsky's brain as he started to forget. He couldn't hold on. When he saw his partner being shot a second time, his feelings reared up one more time, before locking themselves away as the drug steadfastly went on with its destructive job.

It was like stepping out of a picture, like turning off the television. Standing by the doors in a firing position, Starsky stood stock still as he groped for fleeing images: Images of laughter, of people, of Bay City; Images of fear, of Terri and of Hutch, Hutch holding on to him when he was poisoned. Words, emotions, they hit him hard before fluttering away.

_Starsk… fight it, come on… _

_I'd never leave you and you know it! _

_They got to me the first time, Starsk…_

The image of a daisy…

The connection between him and Hutch stirred, fought and lost. And he never felt its presence as profoundly as he did then, right before it snapped.

He never would have guessed it would hurt so much…

He realized he was crying, but he didn't know why anymore. Slowly he backed away from the alien scene in front of him, from everything that he was. Forgetting, loosing his memories, his family, his partnership. For a moment images flared in his mind. But they disappeared, until there was nothing left.

* * *

**Tbc**


	9. Chapter 18 and 19

**Warning: **Angst, and Hutch hurt alert. (Hey, what can I say, I am a Hutch girl, after all).

**Thanks** to the usual suspects, especially BLG.

These chapters will raise some questions, but rest assured that they will be answered as the story continues.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 18**

_Get out…_

So that was what he did, running. Running to get out of town, running to make sure this pain he started to feel did _not_ catch up with him.

It worked. A strange numbness settled over him. The brunet could feel its soothing power working its way through him, tenderly smoothing the rough edges of the broken bond. He didn't realize that this was the drug's only virtue, bringing peace where pain should have been. He cradled the feeling, nurtured it, his mind gladly letting go of the terrifying emptiness it faced.

The stupor caused by the drug enabled him to keep his body going, to keep running.

It wasn't until he caught a lift from a friendly truck driver that he managed to catch his breath a bit. Tired beyond words, though he couldn't for the life of him figure out why, since he hadn't done all that much today, the brunet closed his eyes in the relative safety of the truck's cabin.

_God, where did this headache come from? _Now if only he could get some shut eye in this cramped space. _Maybe then this hammering going on inside my skull will cease._

With a sigh Starsky drifted away into a deep sleep, one that would rid his mind of the last of the confusion, leaving a blissfully, peaceful blackness in its wake.

However, unbeknownst to him, the cruel breaking of their bond worked of course… both ways.

* * *

Hutch was screaming. 

He had known pain before. He had survived a car crash, lying pinned beneath it for hours on end, his leg crushed underneath. He had survived the plague. He had taken a bullet or two in his younger years, and he had even survived the pains of withdrawal.

But it was nothing like this.

He had dropped the Magnum as he curled in on himself in shock. He didn't even feel the wounds caused by the bullets which had hit him, one in the left shoulder and one in his left upper arm. The agonizing pain resonating from within the depth of his soul radiated outward like a solar flare, the flaming, searing fire, ripping him apart.

He didn't understand what was happening. He hadn't even known a depth like that existed within him. All he knew was that he felt ripped… torn apart from the inside. And he had no idea how to quell the overwhelming agony of the ruptured bond which had existed between them.

So all he could do was scream.

* * *

"SHUT HIM UP!" Karl ordered, slightly panicked at seeing the blond rolling over the floor, effectively awakening the whole neighbourhood. Thank God this factory was located in a somewhat remote area with no one around for miles. 

"How? We already shot him twice!" Michaels replied.

"Jesus," Donalds whispered, staring in shock at Hutch. "What did you do to him?"

"I shot him!" Michaels answered exasperatedly.

"Yes, but…"

"It's not the gunshots, you idiots!" Karl walked forwards. "It's something else."

Mercifully he knocked Hutch out cold with the butt of his own gun, the following silence almost hurting the ears.

"Interesting," he mused. "It looks like the drug is having some side effects."

Donalds tore his eyes away from the blond and looked up. "But we gave it to the other one!"

Karl didn't laugh. "That's what's so interesting about it."

One of the Sumos came running in from outside. "He's gone," he heaved. "Boy, can that man run."

"Let him," Karl ordered, it's obvious the drug did its job.

The Sumo frowned. "Won't he run straight for the cops?"

This time, Karl did smile. "He won't remember a thing, not us, not his past, nor his life or his partner over here."

Donalds stared at him and all he could say was, "Jesus."

"Right," Karl motioned to the blond. "Pick him up. We got what we need. And Donalds?"

Donalds looked up from the still body on the floor. "Yes?"

"Make sure the Feds keep their eyes on Starsky. I don't care what he does as long as he remains oblivious of his past. It's highly unlikely, but if he starts remembering, let me know at once, it'll mean we'll have to pack up and leave."

The agent nodded. "Don't worry, a deals a deal, we'll take care of it."

* * *

Starsky didn't know why he was going north. He only knew the truck driver was heading that way. He'd woken up still feeling immeasurably tired. With drooping eyelids he stared out of the large passenger window, watching the scenery slowly fade in the dimming light of the setting sun. 

_Who knows where this truck is taking me. I might even stay there for a while._ Yes, that would be nice for a change. _No more travelling… get a job at a local store or something… maybe even meet a nice girl. Yeah, this truck will take me… home._

He closed his eyes again, drifting away in a peaceful slumber, certain that when he would wake up again, he would be home.

**

* * *

**

The bullets were removed by some shady doctor; the injuries were treated and cleaned, but the fever stayed, originating from deep within him.

"You know, Detective, this connection you had with your partner is quite eerie and, I think you'll agree with me on this by now, most unhealthy.

Hutch heard him, saw him, but didn't acknowledge Karl's presence. Lying on the old cot in the room in the basement once more, he stared at the ceiling as feverish, hot drops of sweat were trickling down his face. Pain kept coursing through his system.

There were no dreams, just the frightening reality of not knowing what was wrong with him as he suffered the experience of nausea, dizziness and the sense of free fall. Emptiness was what he felt, feeding high temperatures, dehydration and desperation as his soul kept searching for something that was no longer there.

Unable to cope with the loss his body was shutting down on him.

Hutch blinked a couple of times as finally, after three confusing, terrifying days, he began to understand what was going on. Karl's words started to make sense.

"No," he shook his head in desperation._ At least he's gotten away_, the blond thought frantically, _that's all that counts._ "He… will… remember," he spoke hoarsely. "He can't …" He gasped, trying to get the words out of his dry mouth.

The determination obviously angered Karl, who leaned in a bit closer. "He won't. Not you, not anything… it's gone, destroyed. Can't you feel that?" He fell silent for a while, letting the words sink in. "There's nothing left for you now. No cops, no friends, no family, no life…."

Hutch shook his head again in denial.

Karl squatted in front of the cot, his face now mere inches from the blond's. "You know, I didn't like it much at first, but now I think that giving the stuff to your partner was a stroke of genius. Because watching you slowly die here is immensely more satisfying this way."

Hutch eyes flashed with a surge of fierce resistance, before they widened in sudden pain. When his cramped muscles unwind a bit, he whispered, "You're a fool Karl. Why not just kill me now, and get it over with?"

"Oh, this is just the beginning, detective. That's why I had your injuries treated. Your life is mine."

The blond turned his head away. "No."

"Let go of your partner, he's not coming back."

"No."

"Suit yourself, detective. You just keep fighting. It makes your eventual destruction that much sweeter. Too bad the Feds took the drugs with them when they left. Oh well, I never liked Ben's methods anyway. I much rather use my own means. It takes a bit longer perhaps, but we'll get there all the same. You'll see, in the end, you'll want to die."

Hutch closed his eyes to shut out reality, trying to find the one feeling that would tell him if there was any hope left.

There was nothing.

* * *

**Chapter 19**

"You know, Belinda? You've got the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

"Flatterer."

"Do you want to have diner with me? My treat."

"But I own this restaurant!"

"So? Have you ever sat down quietly in your own restaurant, enjoying a candlelight dinner for two?"

"I think someone's fishing for information here."

"Have ya?"

She smiled. "No."

"You oughta."

"Careful Mister Starsky. I could easily fall in love with you."

"Call me David. Tonight? Seven?"

"All right, seven."

* * *

Despite the fact that Hutch was given food on a regular basis, and was even allowed to make guarded trips to a filthy bathroom on the ground floor every morning, gradually the blond's fight lessened with his fading strength. Still, over the course of the next two months the wounds started to heal, and much to Karl's frustration the fever, which had never completely left him, finally did brake. 

"You're still hanging on to hope, aren't you?" Karl angrily grabbed the blond's wrist. His patience obviously having run out, he clearly planned to get on with business.

Hutch tried to yank his arm back, but the man had placed it in an iron grip. The blond just looked at him in defiance, not giving a sound as with an evil grin, Karl purposefully closed his hand even tighter around it, causing pain to shoot up the wounded arm and shoulder. The blond bit back a cry, clenching his lips together in stubbornness

Karl's smile died on his face. "I think it's time we did something about that feisty nature of yours, Hutchinson," he spoke, angry, "Especially since you're all well again." He motioned for the Sumos, who hauled him ruthlessly off the cot. "Take him outside."

They dragged him over to the back of the factory where a large water-filled basin covered the desolated area. Although Hutch tried to plant his feet, he was no match for the two men throwing him in.

The Sumos jumped in after him to stand on the bottom of the basin which turned out to be only chest deep. They ruthlessly pushed the fighting detective under. He struggled, his splashing drenching the Sumos, the noise translating as a low underwater roar as the dead lock around his arms and shoulders mercilessly stayed in place.

They pulled him up again.

"There's no Starsky here to save you!" Karl yelled, standing on the concrete edge of the basin.

"Stuff it!" He spluttered, after having taking in a few gulps of air, his heart beating like crazy.

The Sumos coldly pushed him down again, and again, and again, until they kept him there a little too long. In the brown murky water his movements quieted down.

They hauled him up.

Hutch had started to drift away into unconsciousness. He woke up with a start, panicking, forgetting everything but the will to survive. In his despair he reached out frantically, grabbing hold with both hands onto one of the Sumos to keep them from drowning him again.

Karl smiled, motioning for his men to halt their actions. "No more the tough cop everybody thinks you are, huh? Who owns your life now, Hutchinson?"

Coughing up the stale dirty water, Hutch didn't dare answering. Water trickled down his face as the Sumos held him steady.

Karl's posture was victorious as he obviously realized he gained some footing. "Good, you're learning. That's enough for now, boys."

They dragged him back to the cot. Soaking wet and shivering from head to toe, he was freezing in the damp cellar's chilling temperatures, the cold numbing the pain originating from the barely healed gun shot wounds.

"Now, don't you die on me yet," Karl mocked the trembling detective. "Tie him to the bed. Let's see if a couple of days of fasting will quench that stubborn streak of yours."

The blond placidly let the Sumos restrain him. "Y…You're that af…f…fraid of me, Karl?" He whispered as his bonds were tightened around the iron frame.

Karl, who was about to walk out the door hesitated, his posture relaying to Hutch that he had hit bull's eye. The man turned around, his calm voice iced with unhidden hatred. "My brother underestimated you, and your partner. I won't make that same mistake." His tone grew nasty. "Maybe in a few weeks, when you come to realize your whole life has dwindled down to a pitiful existence in this basement, when you'll accept I _own_ your life, your existence, and your soul, maybe then… I will untie you."

Silence descended as Hutch had trouble replying to the pure loathing he felt coming from the man. Normally words such as these didn't bother him that much. It came with a cop's territory. But recent events had done its job. Karl was beginning to get to him. Hutch knew he was loosing. The near drowning having sucked away all his strength… there just wasn't much left anymore.

Karl understood. Without saying another word, he proceeded to follow his man out into the dark corridor.

A loud click and the lights went out.

Hutch clenched his fists, wishing he could be sure Starsky wouldn't just forget about him, wouldn't just abandon him. No matter what drug Karl had pumped into the brunet. However, the unexpected, terrifying lost feeling, against which Hutch had no defence whatsoever, kept winning terrain. The fear that his captor had destroyed him at his core by literally taking Starsky out of the picture, kept winning ground with every breath he took.

As he had done so many times in the past few weeks he tried to squash the emptiness inside him as it only served to hasten his downfall. And just as so many times before, he didn't succeed.

Hope began to fade, slowly, relentlessly as it lost ground to the timeless void Hutch seemed to find himself in. With a last gasp, he released his clenched fists, having struggled in vain to free himself from his bonds. Tired, he relented to the ropes which Karl had placed on both his wrists and his soul.

Shivering, all he could was drift away in the safety of the darkness.

* * *

Stepping into the bedroom, a concerned look crossed Belinda's deep brown eyes when she caught her fiancée nearly choking on a nasty cough. 

"I dink I cadched a cold or someding," he mumbled.

Belinda tried to suppress a grin at the puppy eyed look he shot her.

"Men," she said, feeling truly sorry for him. "You, sneeze once, and you think you're gonna die."

"I feel horrible," he whined.

"You better stay in for today and rest up a bit." She sat down on the bed, "We don't want you to be sick at your own wedding in a few months, now do we?"

"Wid a preddy girl as you for a nurse, dis ding will pass in no dime."

Belinda smiled, "try to get some sleep."

Nodding in agreement, Starsky crawled back underneath the blankets.

She kissed him on the cheek, decided to fix him up some soup, and silently left the room.

**

* * *

**

**Tbc**


	10. Chapter 20 and 21

**Author's note**: In order to straighten out Starsky's story line I had to change some details in the first dream Starsky had in chapter one. The following chapters might contain some of the answers you've been looking for.

Credit for some of the research and story line ideas in these, and following chapters goes to Starsky's Strut.

My heartfelt thanks go to all you wonderful readers!

**Warning: **Hutch hurt

* * *

**Chapter 20**

Dobey was leaning with both arms on his desk, his hands covering his face as he still heard the commissioner's voice ringing in his ears a few moments earlier over the telephone.

"The way I see it, you don't have a choice here, Captain. Either you drop the investigation, or you'll find yourself out of a job."

"They were setup! Two of my best man can't just vanish off the face of the earth!"

"There's a larger interest at stake here, the Feds are handling it."

"The Feds were in on this, Gardner!"

A brief silence fell, before the commissioner continued, "This order didn't just come from the mayor, Captain. It came from above, high above. And if you don't want to find yourself unemployed for the rest of your life, I suggest you follow it, and forget about your men."

Dobey could feel his face turning red with anger. "Forget about them? Listen, you can order me to do anything related to my job, but I will never… NEVER, forget about them, you hear me!"

"Harold…"

"And another thing, we don't even know if they're dead or alive, what am I supposed to tell their families, huh?"

Tell them that they're still missing, but that the Feds are taking over from now on, nothing more. Whether you like it or not, this case is now classified, Captain. And the Feds will not tolerate interference into 'their' investigation.

"Classified, my ass! The government is protecting the Forests for God knows what reason and Starsky and Hutchinson are the ones who're paying the price for that!"

Gardner's voice at least sounded lenient this time, "Look, we all know that sometimes certain sacrifices have to be made, and as much as I would like to, there's nothing I can do about that, my hands are tied."

"Well, unofficially, I'll still be looking Gardner, and if those Feds make one wrong move I'll be there to make sure everyone's gonna know about it! There's nothing I can do about _that, _either!"

"It's only because you're one of my closest friends that I can say I didn't hear that, Harold. And I'm sorry. I truly am."

"Yeah," Dobey said sadly, and hung up.

That was it then. He had no choice. He couldn't afford to loose this job. He had a wife and kids to support. Angry, he stood up, throwing the chair backwards with force. He stalked out of the office. The heavy silence descending in the squad room as he entered it didn't make things any easier. They all knew this day would come, eventually.

Dobey had his men searching for over three months now, non stop, but nothing had turned up. Forest had disappeared along with the two detectives, and the only lead they had was Helen, but every time they made some progression with her case, the Feds got in their way. Evidence got confiscated, records were deemed classified, statements changed, and stuff just got… lost, somehow.

Not even Huggy had been able to break the tight net the FBI seemed to have firmly in place. And it wasn't from lack of trying. The bartender had completely turned the town upside down, looking under every stinking rock, playing every card in his deck, cashing in on all outstanding favors, even asking for some favors of his own every now and then.

Nothing.

Dobey managed to spend more evenings at the Pits lately. More than he used to. Since the case was classified all he'd been able to tell outsiders was that the boys were missing. But Huggy already knew differently, so they at least could talk to each other about their anger and frustration. It somehow made the feeling of loss seem more bearable.

Quietly, Dobey now let his eyes pass over the small crowd. The atmosphere inside the squad room had turned grim over the last couple of months. There wasn't as much laughter as there use to be. They were all good men, most of whom loved their job. However, the disappearance of both Starsky and Hutch sadly had a lasting effect… on all of them.

He waited until he got their full attention.

Then, not trusting his voice he gravely shook his head, as if relaying the fact that one of them hadn't made it. "As of today…," he spoke in a thick voice, "the case concerning our two missing men has been deemed classified. From now on the Feds will take over. Your orders are to cease all related investigation at once, be it official, or unofficial, and to start concentrating on the new cases we got coming in."

Not waiting for his people to burst out in objection, Dobey walked out of the squad room, before either of them could see the tears forming in his eyes.

* * *

Hutch was tired.

He'd come to the point of braking so many times, he lost count. As much as the blond was a fighter, and not a quitter, Karl had been clever.

He'd managed to viciously draw out every character trait the blond possessed, along with his hopes, his strength, and his stubbornness, squashing them one by one by ways of fasting, drowning and other physical means, making him slowly loose his self respect and his dignity.

Each time he gave in after one of Karl's sessions, he hated himself more. He hated to see himself so out of control, so dependent on the one man he knew should never see him like that, to have to admit time and time again, that it was Karl who held his life in his hands.

He was holding on, barely.

What made it worse was that he couldn't 'feel' his partner anymore. Hutch had always assumed he would know whether Starsky was alive or not. He would feel it in his gut. But as strange as it sounded, that was gone. His partner's presence was simply missing, as if he'd never met the man. The numbness replacing it was killing him, the emptiness bled like a sore infested wound deep into his soul, tensing up his stomach, affecting his breathing, undermining his strength, his ability to fight, his resolve to endure this.

He couldn't close his eyes to escape it; he couldn't find peace in his sleep, for the broken feeling inside was always there, becoming even more tangible as he tried to shut it out. Every time his mind tried casting a thought of hope, that thought simply got lost in the dark where his friend used to be.

Karl knew, up to a point, that he'd delivered the blond a near fatal blow by literally ripping the two men apart. He used it, but not to its fullest extend. Hutch was well aware of that. If Karl ever were to find out how to break through his barriers, how to pull down the walls of faith concerning Starsky's friendship, Hutch wouldn't be able to keep his balance. Not in the state he was in now.

Behind those walls was a Hutch who simply craved to be loved, making him very vulnerable to those he'd given his friendship too. So the trick to get to him was simple. Just throw his care back into his face, use it against him, and the blond was devastated, like Vanessa had done, or his parents for that matter. So he sure as hell made certain he buried that side of his nature deeply within him.

But the tiredness had made him sloppy, and Karl's bait had worked.

Hutch was glad to see the boy, who hadn't made his appearance ever since he'd given the blond his pocket-knife. He should have known something was up when Tommy walked in, and apparently was allowed to speak to him.

"Would you like to come out and play with me?"

From his position on the cot Hutch turned his head to give him a weak smile. It was all he could muster these days. Karl didn't even lock the door anymore, there was no strength left in him to walk out. "I can't, Tommy."

"You look sick."

The boys worried features stroke a chord. "It's okay, don't worry, I'll get better."

"Your friend just left you here, didn't he? Happened to me loads of times, I don't have any real friends."

A sad look crossed Hutch's face as panic started to rise. If he'd been in any better shape he would have been able to comfort the boy, to tell him it wasn't true, that he hadn't been left behind. But as it stood now, the words from the kid cut right through to his heart. He stifled the fear showing in his eyes, it was gone before Tommy, or anyone else could pick up on it.

Or so he thought.

The soft smile didn't reach his eyes as he spoke softly. "I'll be fine. I'll be your friend if you want me to be?"

"Yeah?"

Karl's voice suddenly broke through their conversation. "Tommy, get back upstairs."

Looking up to find Forest standing in the doorway, Hutch didn't manage to cover his startled shock fast enough. It was obvious the man had been standing there for a while. Dread took hold of him as the boy ran out of the room.

Karl smiled, from having observed their little get together he had obviously figured out how to deliver the final blow.

Hutch lowered his eyes, realizing the game was over. Without a word he let himself being pulled roughly off the cot, and taken to one of the adjoining rooms where the Sumos tied him to a chair.

"You think someone's still out there who cares for you? You think that boy cares for you? You think the good guys will win in the end? You think Starsky will come back for you?" Questions were thrown at him. Questions which only demanded one answer. A negative one, and when he didn't gave it to them, the repercussions were hard.

"I bet you made fun of him lots of times. I bet you often ridiculed him in front of your fellow cops, didn't you? You seem like that kind of man, a spoiled brat who has to tease his partner in order to feel better about himself. Isn't that what you're about? So, why would he come back for you? Answer me!"

"I'm not… like that. Starsky's … he's …"

"What about your parents, Hutchinson, or your ex-wife for that matter? You look me in the eye, and tell me that they _loved_ the conceited scum sitting in front of me now."

Hutch realized with horror that Karl had managed to access that part of him, which up till now only Starsky had known about. His answers came ever haltingly, the repercussions for giving the wrong ones, for showing any hint of pride, ruthlessly increasing. Until he muttered a stammering 'sorry'.

And Forest smiled.

When Karl's words continued to tug and rip his very being apart with every carefully stated question, every physical blow to his system, every mental blow to his heart, Hutch cried out in terror, screamed in denial and fear… and slowly lost his footing. He slipped. The solid rock he'd been standing on tilted, slowly, relentlessly… the process taking over an hour, until there was nothing left to hang onto anymore, and he fell.

When they finally put him back in his cellar again, Hutch knew… it was all over.

* * *

Belinda stared dreamingly out of the window, watching her husband's attempts to repair her green Ford. He looked especially good leaning over the car's engine under the open hood. She always loved to see him in tight jeans like this. He had looked rather well on their wedding too, dressed in black. The man had been positively glowing.

Too bad none of his family had been able to attend. When they'd had their first dinner over five months ago, David had explained to her he'd lived in New York all his live, and lost his parents a while back. He'd been travelling ever since then. And because he didn't have a permanent address, the contact with the rest of his family had been lost as well. He didn't mind. He told her he was an only child, so he didn't have any siblings. And the one aunt and uncle he did have never really seemed to like him anyway.

The story had made her heart fill with sympathy for the man. However, she also found it to be somewhat unsettling. Apart from the sad content, David's eyes had looked kind of glazy all throughout his monologue, only clearing after they'd had their first bite to eat. At first she contributed it to the fact that he simply hated to talk about stressful events in his past. But now she wasn't so sure. It was almost as if he'd been making things up as he was speaking to her in a monotone voice. In hindsight, it only added to the mystery his past seemed to be riddled with.

The wedding had been nice. Her family, albeit small, consisting of her father and an aunt had been there, as well as some folks from the local community. What troubled her was that David had seemed real happy at first, until the evening came. For when everyone had gone home her husband had carried that same glazy look again. She'd asked him worriedly what was wrong, but he'd never really answered that question. Instead he'd taken away her fears by giving her a night she would never forget.

That was two weeks ago. She sighed, recalling the events of last night. Something had woken her up. And when she'd turned on the small table lamp near her bed she noticed with shock that her still sleeping husband next to her was crying.

"A bad dream, Bell," that was what he'd said to her when she woke him up, "nothing more."

She wondered if that was all it had been, if this wasn't some traumatic event from his past still haunting him. However, he'd assured her that wasn't the case, and he'd never lied to her, or anyone for that matter, he just wasn't that kind of man. So what else could she do but to trust in the fact that he was telling the truth?

Beneath her window, her husband angrily closed the hood of the Ford with a loud bang. Looking up, he gave her a thumbs-down sign, a sad expression on his face telling the whole story. The car was a goner.

She smiled down at him.

He just shrugged, giving her a big grin in return.

Whatever had upset him so much in the middle of the night seemed to have gone now. Maybe someday she would find out more about his past, maybe not. It didn't matter. All that mattered was the future. They were a couple now, friends, and partners. No matter what the coming year held in store for them, they would face it… together.

* * *

**Chapter 21**

The phone sitting in the small office overlooking the factory's large storage facility was ringing off the hook for over ten seconds before Karl annoyingly picked it up. "Yeah, talk to me."

The voice on the other side of the line sounded a bit high pitched, "Karl is that you?"

"Yeah, Donalds, what do you want?" he snapped, recognizing the voice.

"Easy man, I'm just informing you of the current situation."

"What situation, you have everything under control haven't you?"

"We've been receiving reports that Starsky's still having flashbacks every now and then."

"You assured me that this couldn't happen! You said the drug was foolproof!"

"It is! Don't worry. These flashes will fade with time, believe me Karl. The man got married and everything. God, you wouldn't believe the paperwork we had to arrange for that."

"Donalds!"

"All right, all right, look, even if he does remember eventually, which I highly doubt, it'll take months for him to sort it all out, so it might be a while before the man returns to Bay City. If ever."

"Well, can't you stop him if he does?"

"We're not murderers, Karl."

"Not murderers! What about the test subjects?"

"What test subjects?"

Karl cursed under his breath. Of course he'd always known that when push came to shove the FBI would simply deny ever having had any contact with him. "Fine, let's just hope he won't remember then."

"He won't, trust me. In fact, we don't even consider him to be a threat anymore, so, as of now, Starsky's no longer under our surveillance. We instructed the local police to leave him alone as much as possible, but that's it. And just so you know, this is to be our last communication. You're a valuable source, Karl. We might be in need of your services again in the future."

_Good, at least that means they won't kill me to cover up their tracks. _"Yeah," he mocked, "I'll miss you too." He hung up the phone, and thought things through. The drug was strong, Donalds was right. Even if Starsky would remember eventually, maybe in another year or so, it was of no consequence to him. He would be long gone by then.

It felt good to be fully in charge again.

* * *

He could hardly believe it had been six months since he'd met Belinda. Starsky was devouring a homemade pizza, while at the same time admiring his wife from a distance. As she moved around behind the bar with grace, he recalled how beautiful she'd looked at her wedding a month ago.

His thoughts darkened as he pondered over this morning's events. To his relief, after his little escape at Hank's store, the dreams had left for a while. He'd even started to believe they'd been nothing more but images brought on by stress, caused by some sort of post-wedding anxiety. He was sure the strange hallucinations he'd had last week, merely served to drain some of his tension and now, life had returned back to normal.

Life was good.

Until this morning.

When he'd nearly crashed his truck into the nearby bus stop.

He'd been twiddling with the radio when his stomach had suddenly done a flip turn.

_Just for a moment he found himself in another car, racing across a long and winding empty grey street. The seat next to him was empty. Tears were streaming down his face, though he didn't know why. He was angry, so angry… at himself, for being too late, far too late._

With a start he'd found himself back in his own pickup again, heading on a collision course with the local transporting company's property as he'd unconsciously sped up. He managed to miss the unmovable object by mere inches, bringing the truck to a skidding halt. He was glad Belinda wasn't with him, for the curses that followed would have made her blush a deep red.

The chimes of the door bell indicated someone was entering the restaurant. Shaken from his thoughts, Starsky looked up to see his wife standing frozen behind the bar.

"DON'T NOBODY MOVE!" The man wearing a long black coat and a ski mask anxiously pointed his gun at Belinda. Restless grey eyes quickly took in the surroundings, before he purposefully stepped over to the cash register.

The robber had failed to notice the brunet, who was sizing the man up from the safe position of the kitchen. Starsky hated guns, he always had. He had no idea why… he just hated them. Belinda owned one. She kept it in the kitchen in a pan she hardly ever used.

A nervous masculine voice interrupted his thoughts. "Just put the money in this bag, baby, and nothing will happen to that pretty little face of yours."

His wife was too shocked to move.

"MOVE IT, LADY!" The guy shouted, walking behind the bar, roughly shoving Starsky's wife to the cash register.

Starsky quickly moved out of sight as something inside took over. Without making a sound he opened one of the cupboards and lifted the lid of the pan, taking out the gun. Then he carefully proceeded to take the clip out of the drawer, locking it in place.

His own voice suddenly rang in his head, like an echo from the past. _There are some things, you never forget._ He walked over to the kitchen door. His movements graceful, his actions programmed, robot-like.

The man's attention was still on the money which Belinda was putting in the bag as quick as she could. With a certain amount of pride Starsky noticed her hands weren't even shaking.

"FREEZE!" he ordered.

The startled robber turned, aiming his gun at the brunet.

Before Starsky consciously registered what he was doing, he made a dive roll. When he came up, the man shot to kill, missing the brunet by mere inches.

Starsky fired.

His wife screamed.

The impact of the bullet threw the man backwards. Bottles, glasses, and the mirror behind the bar broke into a thousand pieces as the man fell into them. The overwhelming sound of breaking glass shattered a barrier inside the brunet he hadn't even known was there, a barrier which had kept yet another memory from surfacing. He sat frozen in place, one knee on the floor, gun with both hands still trained at the man.

In another time and place blue eyes met his…split seconds before the shot rang through the street, throwing the blond man full force through the glass door behind him. The noise of shattering glass… the feeling of utter despair when he saw him fall through that window… He saw it… clear as day… again, and again, and again. His mouth opened to call a name. But no sound would emerge. There was only emptiness.

Warm hands touched his trembling fists still locked around the gun. "Dave."

Slowly he registered Belinda's voice and looked up.

"It's over, lower the gun."

"How…" he stared at her, his voice soft from shock. "How could I forget something like that? Jesus…"

"Dave, come on." Belinda put her hands on his gun, slowly taking it from his grip.

Starsky stared from the gun to her kind face.

"How did you know how to do all that?" She asked bewildered.

"I don't … know… I just knew… I… we…were in a city, recently." He said confused, standing up.

"We?" Belinda's voice sounded slightly suspicious.

"Yeah, the blond…" Starsky explained, leaning over the bar to check on the robber, who was knocked out cold, thereby missing the flash of jealousy shooting across his wife's face.

"Blonde? A girl?"

With the memory of the man crashing through the window, still vividly burning his inner eye he answered without hesitation. "No, a guy."

She put a hand on his arm. "A guy? David, listen to yourself. You told me that after you left New York, you always chose small towns to spend the night in, because you hated the big cities. That wasn't a lie, wasn't it?"

"No," Starsky said, shaking his head, confused. He remembered the man. He remembered the image, and if he concentrated enough he could even remember him laughing, them talking together. But he couldn't remember a name, a place, what city they were in. That made it awfully unreal, for Belinda was right. He had not been to a big city since he'd left New York. And that was quite a while ago. There was nothing in his past that correlated with these memories. "I don't know… "

His wife stared at him in awe before calmly stating the obvious. "Listen, you're just upset. God knows I am. It's normal to create a bit of a fantasy in order to cope with… with what you just did."

"That doesn't explain me handling the gun like I just did, not to mention that… that dive roll. I'm telling you Bell, something's wrong, I can feel it."

"Dave, a person can do extraordinary things under extraordinary circumstances. You probably just watched 'The Rookies' just one time too many."

He turned away from her. His wife's logic made perfect sense. And if it wasn't for that little voice that kept telling the blond was not a fantasy, and was as real as the creep lying behind the bar, he might have let it go. But now, somehow, he couldn't.

_What city indeed?_ He thought frantically, gripping the bar with both hands. _Come on, Dave. What city?_ Bay City, a voice answered.

His head snapped up. "Bell, I have to go."

"Go? Go where?"

"Bay City."

"Bay City? In the US!"

"You can go with me or not. Either way, I'm going."

* * *

**Tbc.**


	11. Chapter 22 and 23

**Thanks** to Wuemsel for helping me to keep Hutch in character. Once again, credit for some of the lines written below goes to Strut.

**Warning**: _I'm going to repeat this one more time: if you are sensitive to loss, don't read this! If you do, don't come complaining to me about it. In other words: if you can't stand the heat, vacate the cooking area!_

**Warning: **And this is a serious one! These chapters contain the death of a child! Although I tried to keep it as less graphic as possible, it still is rather disturbing and I had a great deal of trouble writing it.

**Warning: **These chapters contain a riot scene that may be upsetting.

Okay, I hope I haven't scared off the majority of my readers. For those of you still with me, enjoy!

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 22**

The police took both Starsky's and Belinda's statements, but strangely enough left it at that. To Starsky's surprise they had no problem with the fact that he and Belinda would leave for their 'honeymoon' the next day. Luckily, the robber's gunshot wound wasn't life threatening. However, the man would be out of commission for a while.

So, after a restless night, they left to start their trip down south early in the morning, leaving the restaurant in the capable hands of the cook. The small town of Burnaby looked peaceful, and quiet, as most of its inhabitants were still asleep. Only the seagulls were crying their farewells over the empty waters of the bay. They took his pickup truck. He'd much rather had taken Bell's car, the green Ford, for it was far better suited for a trip like this, but that one was currently under repairs, and he didn't want to wait another day for it to be finished.

His wife sat quietly in the passenger's seat as she obviously tried to come to terms with his strange behavior. The look in her eyes, right before she agreed to come was one he would never forget. She hadn't said it, but Starsky knew she was wondering if he'd actually gone crazy.

It wasn't a comforting thought.

To top it all off, the further they got away from home, the more cramped the brunet's insides started to feel, the pain in his stomach increasing steadily over the last one hundred miles, resulting in slight tremors shooting up his spine. He felt awful. The aspirins he'd taken two hours ago didn't seem to help, and seeing as he still had a long drive ahead of him, he didn't dare take anything stronger.

Trying to keep his condition from Belinda, Starsky had withdrawn inwardly, keeping quiet as he tried to keep the pickup on the road with the sweat filled palm of one hand. Silently he tried to keep the truck steady, ignoring the feverish spells by gripping the wheel tightly.

His hand clenched when suddenly his brain decided to launch vicious little knifes at his eyeballs. Nausea, headache and dizziness overwhelmed him, seemingly coming from out of nowhere. He panicked slightly, not understanding what was wrong with him. The intangible feelings sent his anxiety through the roof. _What the hell am I doing taking off to the South just like that? _For a moment he feared Belinda was right. That he'd gone crazy. _God, look at me. Here I am, chasing ghostly images from my dreams, which could turn out to be nothing more but figments of my imagination. _

Without a word he took a ramp off Interstate Five leading to a motel. Surprised, Belinda turned to face him. He couldn't look her in the eyes. Instead, he stopped at a parking lot where he angrily yanked the door open and exited the truck.

Belinda stared at him. The brunet saw the tears welling up in her eyes for fear he'd lost it as he was pacing the slab of concrete, trying to catch his breath, using the fresh air to get rid of the nausea and confusion.

If anything it only made matters worse. Not wanting to upset his wife anymore than he'd done already, he made a beeline for the small restaurant, heading straight for the restroom where he immediately lost his entire breakfast.

Fear raced through him as he stood there leaning over the toilet, trembling from head to toe. He coughed, carefully stood up straight, and pushed the lever. Then he went over to the washbasin to wash up. The man in the mirror staring back at him looked ragged. If he didn't know any better he'd say he was going through withdrawal.

_What the hell's wrong with me?_

The worried voice of his wife sounded from behind the closed door, "David, are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Just give me a few minutes, I'll be right there."

"I've booked us a room at the motel. It looks like you're not going anywhere for a while. We'll be staying the night, okay?"

"Yeah, 's okay. Thanks Bell."

Right now he wanted nothing more but to turn around and head home, where it was safe. The thought of having to enter the car to continue his journey almost made him run for the John again. Something inside him objected fiercely to that idea. He hated to admit it, but Bell's decision to stay here for tonight made him sigh with relief.

He closed his eyes, trying to get rid of the headache. The pain had a familiarity to it. With effort he remembered he'd been running at the time. Someone had shouted at him to get out…

Had that really happened? No, it couldn't be real.

The detective within him stirred, urging him to seek some answers, causing him to shake his head in frustration. Angrily he pulled himself together.

_Damn, I have to find out what this all means. I can't turn around now. It's just to Bay City and back again, Starsk. _

_And if it turns out to be a wild goose chase? _

_Well, you can't blame a man for trying._

Determined now, he headed out to find his wife.

* * *

Karl stared down at his pray lying forlornly on the dirt-covered ground in the corner of the cellar. Tying him to the bed hadn't been necessary since that memorable day when the detective had stopped fighting, a few months ago. Ever since then, he had seen the fire slowly extinguish from the blond's eyes. 

With satisfaction he now watched his handy work.

Vacant eyes.

Karl had seen this expression for far too many times to not recognize it instantly.

Usually it didn't take six months, though, more like six weeks, maximum. This project had been highly interesting. A most educating experience, teaching him once again, that all men had their breaking points. His fear for the detective vanished as he realized this had just taken a bit longer, that was all.

He sighed, drawing the blond's Magnum from under his jacket. He'd been carrying it ever since he'd first captured the two. Calmly, he took off the safety.

The detective didn't even flinch. Once they reached this state, they never did. He aimed for the head. Too bad it was all over. However, it was best to put the blond out of his misery now.

"NO!"

A small body raced into his firing range. Karl immediately lifted the gun, but realized he'd already pulled the trigger as the sound echoed loudly through the basement. In shock he saw the result lying lifeless on the ground in front of him.

"Oh, no, no, no," he said, the implications of what he'd just done scaring him to bits. "He's never gonna forgive me. Ben's never going to forgive me! SHIT!"

* * *

Hutch woke up slowly, dimly recalling Karl's intention to shoot him. He hadn't mind. The memory of his partner, his life outside as a cop had vanished a long time ago. All that was left of his existence belonged to the man leaning over him, and he'd watched with vague disinterest as the muzzle of his own gun was pointed at his head. 

Surprised to find that he was still alive he clenched his eyes shut, feeling a rush of fear of what had almost happened. A part of him suddenly recalled the day everything changed. The day he'd stopped fighting and had let Karl take over. He sobbed slightly. He fought it for such a long, long time, but in the end just had to give in. And now he didn't even know who he was anymore.

Opening his eyes and blinking a couple of times, Hutch started to register his surroundings. To his surprise he wasn't in the cellar anymore. He was lying on the floor of a room, which seemed… familiar, somehow.

Then he noticed the body.

With a gasp he crawled over to it, shook it. The boy didn't move. Panicking, Hutch looked at his hands, they were covered in blood. His eyes grew wide as he also noticed the gun lying only inches from where he'd woken up.

Trembling all over, Hutch stood up, stepping back from a scene he didn't understand. Suddenly a door opened behind him. He turned to find Karl staring in shock at the dead kid.

"What did you do?" Karl looked at him, utterly horrified.

"I … I didn't-"

"You killed him!"

"No! I… I didn't-."

"How can you deny it, detective?" The last word was spoken with utter contempt, "I gave you back your gun, and you went and killed the boy!"

"N... No… I could never-" Hutch lowered his head.

"Don't tell me you could never do it, Hutchinson. I know you, and when I'm telling you you're capable of it, trust me, you're capable! That is your gun, isn't it?" He pointed at the floor.

Hutch obediently followed his gaze, "Y... Yes, but-"

"You want me to believe that you let the boy 'play' with your gun and he accidentally killed himself?"

Hutch fell silent, confused. Something inside told him, firmly, unrelenting, almost angry that he wasn't capable of something like this, he wasn't. And that if he was, he didn't deserve to live.

"I'm calling the cops," Karl suddenly decided, walking over to the phone located on a dresser next to a vase containing a bouquet of long dead flowers.

"You should be in jail, where they'll take care nicely of people like you."

"N… No…please… I didn't-"

"You don't deserve to live." The man said in a low voice.

Hutch froze.

Karl stared at him, and Hutch felt as if he was nothing more than a dog, which needed to learn its place. "Okay, I'm giving you one more chance, detective. Either you pick up that gun, and end your miserable life, or you walk out now, and run from justice forever. Take your pick. It's your choice."

The blond shook his head, reeling from the fact that Karl had given him a choice. It'd been a long time since he had one. He stepped back, slowly, as a survival instinct Hutch didn't know he still possessed kicked in. The choice was easy.

He turned… and ran.

* * *

Karl watched him leave Helen's apartment. His grey, unemotional grey eyes were cold with revenge. Taking a handkerchief out of his pant pocket he used it to pick up the handle from its cradle. 

It took him a full five minutes to alert both the newspapers and television stations. He smiled as he hung up the phone. By the time the police would figure out what was going on, it was already too late.

For a few moments after he'd gotten Tommy killed, Karl had thought he was a dead man. His brother would never forgive him for killing his son, even if it was just a runt born from one of Ben's many flings.

But this way, not only would Hutchinson get the blame, it would destroy the reputation he still had; and it would get him killed. The best part of it being that Karl wouldn't even need to lift a finger to make it happen.

As usual he would walk away free. Just the way he liked it.

He waited just a few moments more to give the detective a head start, and then picked up the phone again. It was time to call Helen.

* * *

**Chapter 23**

Being locked up in that basement for six months had made Hutch sensitive to every outside stimulus his senses were bombarded with right now. The streets looked long and hostile; the open space was almost too overwhelming, the sky above felt frighteningly dangerous, and the noise coming from the ongoing traffic sounded horrendously loud.

People were watching him as they stopped doing whatever it was they were doing when he staggered passed them. He tried to ignore their accusing stares, but it was hard. Their eyes seemed to follow him everywhere.

He didn't know where he was going. A part of his mind recognized the environment, the street he was in, but these memories weren't able to break through the walls of fear and panic Karl had bestowed on him.

His legs ached as the weak muscles protested against their sudden use, so the blond was forced to pause for a while inside a small dead end alley.

Trembling all over, he leaned against the fire escape of a black-bricked building. His broken will had trouble catching up with reality, and wanted nothing more than to pull back into the safety of the darkness again, to let someone else, to let Karl do the thinking.

Hutch sagged onto the iron steps, giving in to his body's demands to rest, if only for a few minutes.

**

* * *

**

He woke up with a start, having no idea how much time had passed. However, in reality it hadn't been more than a couple of hours. He nearly cried in pain as the unusual sitting position wrecked havoc with his already sore muscles. The blond stood up slowly as his mind told him to push on. Grunting, he forced his legs to move.

The pain in his muscles subsided and Hutch found he was able to think more clearly. He couldn't go home, if people found out what he'd become… No, he couldn't look them in the eye. They would despise him, just as Karl had predicted they would.

And Starsk…

A pain which concurred him long ago reared up sharply, instantly making the small flame that was Kenneth Hutchinson withdraw even more into the dark pit Forest had thrown him into when he'd fallen over the edge. He felt lost, so incredibly lost, and the vague sensation of knowing where he was, only served to make him feel even more disconnected.

And frightened as hell.

_If only I could explain to someone that I didn't do it. _

With effort he stumbled back onto the main street again, managing to keep himself more erect this time, not drawing too much attention to himself. Unconsciously he headed towards Ridgeway Avenue. It was nearly evening and rush hour had started. As shops were closing their doors, the small bars lining the sidewalk were starting to come to life.

Hutch neared a crossing and turned at the sudden sound of wheels skidding to a halt. A large black Chevrolet had just pulled over. Three tall, red haired, broad shouldered men with grim expression on their faces exited the car, followed by a copper coloured haired woman.

He froze, recognizing Helen instantly.

She marched over, her eyes red rimmed with grief, her features contorted with rage. The look on her face, the one of a grieving mother, shook him to the core. She stopped, confronting him with an icy stare. Her eyes holding nothing but utter contempt as they both stood there, frozen in time while the world rushed on around them.

There were so many things he wanted to say. First and foremost that he didn't do it. Somehow the words wouldn't come. His tired mind could only look at her in shock over what she must feel right now. "Helen, I didn't…"

His words died on his lips as she looked at the blood that was still on Hutch's hands. Her head snapped up. She shook it in a bitter negative, biting her lower lip with tear filled eyes, and obviously rejecting the vermin, which stood in front of her. Her deep inner turmoil as clear to him as if she'd shouted it from the rooftops,

Condemning him with a simple nod, she stepped aside to let the three men take over.

"In case you're wondering, we're her brothers," the left man growled. "And suffice it to say that when you killed Tommy, you signed your death warrant."

Only now did Hutch realize that he'd seen them hanging around Karl before. The one in the middle, was holding a baseball bat and swung it threateningly in his direction, while the brother on the right continued his speech, "You see, in our family we don't wait for the cops to do the dirty work, we do it ourselves."

"It wasn't me…" he spoke hoarse, holding up his hands in surrender. "I never… I couldn't…"

"And who else might have done it then?" Standing slightly off to his side, Helen's bitter words rang through the street. "Karl? You really think he'd kill his own nephew?"

"N…Nephew?"

"Yes," one of the brothers hissed low. "Nephew, Ben's son, and you killed the boy to get back at him, didn't you, cop?"

The men closed in, their intentions clear, they were done talking. Although outnumbered and far from being able physically, or mentally to take on his adversaries, a part of Hutch reacted on instinct alone. He drew the Magnum. They stopped their approach, barely four feet away from him.

The front man carrying the wood spoke dangerously, "What's the matter, one little boy wasn't enough? You're gonna kill us too?" his eyes filled with aggression. Sizing Hutch up, he lowered his voice a few octaves, "You're dead."

Hutch tried to keep calm, but it was hard to do that with Karl's voice sounding in his ears, telling him that that this was what he had coming. Doubt began to work its way inside, gnawing at his conviction that he hadn't done it. After all, he had the blood on his hands, and the gun... the gun which had killed Tommy… was his. He now held it in a shaking grip with both hands, wanting nothing more than to drop the thing altogether.

The front man, the one with the bat sensed his indecision.

Hutch backed off in anticipation, but was too late. He yelled in sudden pain as the wood connected hard with his right wrist, knocking the Magnum out of his hands. The bat swung again. Frantically, the blond ducked out of the way. The middle brother cursed, as Hutch's manoeuvre accidentally made him hit his left brother in his stomach.

The blond didn't wait for them to recover, and headed for the door behind him.

"Get him!" The now hunched over left man whispered between pain-filled breaths.

Clutching his sore wrist the blond burst inside the diner, only to stop short just inside the door at the nightmarish scene that greeted him there.

The crowd of people who're just making a quick stop to grab a bite to eat after work, all fell silent. The television set in the corner was the only thing that went blatantly on broadcasting the local news to whoever wanted to hear it.

"_We repeat: a body of a young boy was found this morning in an apartment on Sea View Road.__ In an interview taken earlier this morning Mrs Helen Anderson, the boy's mother, told us she identified the possible suspect as detective Kenneth Hutchinson." _

The scene changed to one showing a sobbing Helen._ "He killed my boy! He shot him in cold blood!" _Tears overwhelmed her. Between choking breaths she managed to speak a few more bitter words._ "He escaped, but rest assured justice will be done. If anyone sees him, call this number." She mentioned a telephone number, and then got cut off by the female reporter. _

_"At this point the police are unwilling to give a statement regarding the possible suspect." _

The scene changed again to that of a picture.

Countless heads turned from the television set, where Hutch's picture was now being displayed in clear black and white, back to him.

Seconds passed without anyone daring to speak up.

_Oh God. _What was left of his former self instantly realized that any hope of getting someone to listen to him had just been thrown out the window. No one would believe him. He was already convicted, already found guilty by the majority of people. The hunt had already started. And he was nothing more than the prey Karl had made him out to be.

Over at one corner a group of local construction workers noisily stood up in an aggressive gesture. Behind Hutch the brothers had entered.

"Yeah, that's right," one of the three shouted at the crowd. "That's him, and I'll say we give him what he deserves."

Hutch turned to slowly back away from them. The brother's gazes were fixed on the blond as they aggressively moved in for the kill. With a loud crack the bat impacted on a table surface inches away from him, smashing the table in half, making Hutch flinch.

"Come on, Folks." One of them continued, "Are we going to allow scum like this to run loose on our streets?"

More people stood up in active aggression, acting like a shoal of fish as they single-mindedly started to react violently to the angry atmosphere permeating the diner.

Someone spit on him.

That spurred his terrified mind into action. Pushing aside a surprised black suited office employee with a hard shove, Hutch fled for the back door. However, a construction worker tripped him, making him crash land into another construction worker who punched him hard in the stomach.

Despair born out of pure survival, made him let his cop instincts take over. He picked up a chair to swing it with force into the back of the guy's head. Without a sound, the man sank to the ground. Hutch avoided another swing, and violently shrugged himself loose from groping hands to finally reach the relative safety of the backdoor.

He ran out.

His mind went blank when he looked over his shoulder to find the crowd surging out behind him, ruthlessly hunting him down. He could hear their cries of hate and anger growing ever louder, could feel his own terrifying fear pushing his tired muscles beyond their limits.

When he neared the intersection again, he was beyond being able to think straight, and took the first opportunity for escape. He dove inside the back of a passing red pick up truck, which just accelerated from having to stop at the traffic lights.

Lying on his back with his heart throbbing in his throat, and unable to move, the aggressive sounds slowly dispersed. He closed his eyes in fear, losing himself in the absolute horrifying experience.

Karl had been right. He would be running from justice… forever.

* * *

**Tbc**


	12. Chapter 24 and 25

**Author's note: **Things are looking up. After these chapters written below, the anxiously awaited reunion scene is coming up!

After the list of warnings posted at the previous chapters I'm happy to announce there are no warnings at all for these ones. g>

Thanks to all you readers who keep reading this, and keep sending me all those wonderful reviews. You all make me enjoy my writing that much more.

* * *

**Chapter 24**

The city reflected nothing familiar. The busy streets only served to make him ill at ease. Starsky had hoped that once he'd laid eyes on the concrete surroundings, the smells and sounds would ring a bell.

They didn't.

As he sat in the passenger's seat, staring outside at the dark streets, the brunet's mood dropped significantly. _Wild goose chase, you see, Dave? I told you so. _

Night had fallen and his wife drove them to a hotel that was recommended to them by the motel owner they'd met the previous night. The man was even kind to give the place a call, and let them know they were coming.

Starsky sighed.

"Nothing?" Belinda asked carefully.

"Nothing, not one damn clue. It all looks the same to me, big grey cold buildings."

"Give it some time. Everything will look different in the morning."

"Sorry," Starsky said, gently taking her free hand and turning towards her.

"For what?"

He motioned outside with his other hand. "For all of this, for the way I've been acting."

"Well, Bay City isn't exactly where I pictured us spending our honeymoon, but it'll do. Besides," she gave him a slight smile, "I've always wanted to see the world."

He kissed her hand, and then spoke softly. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Her smile widened.

Normally that would fill his heart with pure pleasure, but now he wondered why it still felt so empty.

* * *

The next day had them waking up fairly late in the morning. Starsky hadn't realized how tired he'd been until his head had hit the pillow last night and he'd promptly fallen asleep. Walking out of the shower with a white hotel towel tugged around his waist, the brunet found his wife sitting on the bed, watching the small black and white screen with interest. 

Starsky turned to face the television set standing on the dresser, curious to see what caught her attention.

A distraught woman was yelling hysterically at the camera', _"He killed my boy! He shot him in cold blood!" _

_Jeez, welcome to the big city, Starsky thought. _

The women continued,_ "He escaped, but rest assured justice will be done. If anyone sees him, call this number."_

The news lady cut her off._ "At this point the police are unwilling to give a statement regarding the possible suspect." _The scene faded into one that showed a picture

Starsky felt his stomach sink a view feet. It was the oddest sensation. Blood was rushing to his head, and for a moment the whole world started to tilt as he recognized the man from his dreams. His mouth dropped to the floor. "That's him!"

"What?" Distracted, Belinda shot him a sideway glance.

"That-" He fell silent as the news flash started to repeat itself.

"_We repeat: a body of a young boy was found this morning in an apartment on Sea View Road.__ In an interview taken earlier this morning Mrs Helen Anderson, the boy's mother, told us she identified the possible suspect as detective Kenneth Hutchinson." _

"That's him!"

Belinda frowned, turning towards her husband. "Him who?"

"Him! The person I've been dreaming about, the one with the blue eyes… Well, you can't tell he has blue eyes now, cos the t.v.'s black and white, but-"

"David," his wife said softly, turning off the television. "That's a murderer you're talking about. He apparently killed a child."

"Yeah, but-"

Her words sounded cool, detached, as she interrupted him, "All this time, you've been having these nightmares, about… about a killer?"

The look on her face made him want to disappear deep into the floor beneath him. If Belinda had thought him to act a little crazy earlier, it was nothing compared to what she obviously felt now. She looked at him as though she was seeing him for the first time.

"Bell, that's him. I'm sure of it." He turned, heading for his suitcase to pull out some clothes and get dressed.

"What are you doing?"

"What d'you think I'm doing? I'm gonna try and find him."

"Find him! That's a person who shot a kid in cold blood, and you want to go and look for him?"

"He's the only one who can give me some answers!" Starsky retorted, as he was putting on one of his dark blue jeans.

"It's more likely that he'll kill you too! David, use your common sense!"

"He's_ suspected_ of killing a child. That doesn't mean he's done it." He had no idea why this small difference was so important to him, but it felt good saying it.

Squinting, his wife's voice dropped to a wary, but sad whisper, "Who are you? I hardly recognize you anymore."

"Does it matter?" he said, ignoring the question, for he wasn't sure he knew the answer. "Look, you don't have to come with me, if you don't want to."

Belinda stared at him, her eyes growing wide. Then her anger took over. "Fine," she said, standing up to pull her suitcase out from under the bed.

"What are you doing?" Starsky asked really confused.

"I'm going home." She stated, while walking over to the bathroom to pack the small things she'd left in there. She opened the lid of her suitcase to throw the whole lot inside, then closed and locked the thing permanently. "If you think I'm gonna sit here and wait, while you're out tracking a wanted criminal, you're out of your mind."

"Bell-"

"No," apparently not wanting to stay for a minute longer, she went over to the door and opened it. As she turned, her voice softened a bit. "Please come home with me, forget this whole thing. What you want to do now is just… crazy. " She looked like she wanted to say something more, but somehow the words seem to fail her.

He looked at her. God she was beautiful. For a second he was tempted to go with her, to head back to Burnaby, and get on with his life. Yes, that was what he would do… tomorrow, if things hadn't worked out by then. Because, he knew that if he didn't go through with this now, he would regret it for the rest of his life. "I can't. I have to do this."

His wife pursed her lips together in obvious disappointment. Then, without another word, she softly closed the door behind her.

Starsky sank down onto the bed, staring forlornly at the black television screen, hoping against hope that Belinda wasn't right, that he hadn't gone crazy.

* * *

Belinda was fuming, and sped up the truck considerably after having just past one of Bay City's many intersections. She was angry with her husband and berated herself for not putting a stop to this sooner. 

They never should have left Burnaby. After the shooting incident, she should have persuaded Dave to seek some professional help to make sense of these strange dreams he seemed to be having. Not that he would have listened, but at least she could have tried. She shook her head in frustration, knowing full well that her husband would have left for Bay City anyway, without her consent.

His past was somewhat of a mystery. She'd accepted that, along with the strange dreams and the weird black outs. Oh yes, she knew he was having them. Hank from the store had told her about it, as had Ms. Bellcraft who'd seen David almost crashing into the bus stop, yesterday. However, to her, the future was what counted, not the past, and she had been willing to face it with him. Though she never could have guessed it meant chasing after someone -in a strange city no less- who had killed a kid for his own pleasure.

She'd meant what she'd said. She didn't recognise her husband anymore, not when he got stubborn like this. It was almost as if someone else was doing the driving in his head. _Probably the blonde from his dreams,_ she snorted.

Taking the scenic route to clear her head, she was nearing the outskirts of the City, heading in the general direction of the motel they'd stayed at, the day before. Slowly the traffic around her lessened, and the city gave way to rough patches of farmland here and there.

Briefly, Belinda considered taking the highway again, but decided against it. As long as she kept going north she would eventually cross the thing anyway. Come to think of it, the Motel wasn't such a bad idea. She could stay there overnight, and head back to Bay City in the morning. After all, she couldn't leave Dave stranded here. And by tomorrow he would realize how ludicrous this idea of his was.

She sighed. The trouble was that she still trusted him. She loved him, and she knew he only needed some time to come to his senses. That was why she had left for a while, but she would never abandon him.

A loud noise coming from the back of the pickup shook her out of her reverie. Her eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror. They grew wide with shock as she noticed a dishevelled blond man trying to hide himself in the truck bed.

A large bump in the road bounced her in her seat, and made him visible again. Startled, she took in a sharp breath, as she recognized the face from television. She broke out into a cold sweat and felt her heart rate accelerating. O_h my God, what do I do now? What do I do now? _

For a few seconds she sat frozen behind the wheel, at a loss as to what to do next. Options were racing through her mind. Stop at a police station, _but there isn't one around for miles_. Look for a police car. _That could take ages._ Keep on driving. _Great, and then what?_

She really had no choice, did she?

Trembling with the force of adrenaline running through her veins, Belinda opened the glove compartment and took out the gun. David had objected fiercely when she'd suggested they should take it with them, but she'd ignored him. In the end, her husband had stopped arguing about it; mainly because he probably felt he was wasting valuable time. She never felt more relieved for getting her way as she did now when she closed her hand around the heavy grip of the weapon.

Paying close attention to the rear-view mirror, she carefully hit the brakes, slowing down the pickup, until it had come to a stand still next to a dirt road, which headed off into the densely overgrown fields, probably towards one of the farms located in this area. She killed the engine, not stopping to think about what she was doing, because that would only leave her rooted to her seat.

Exiting the truck, gun in hand; she was just in time to see the man more falling than jumping onto the sandy ground.

She aimed the gun.

The blond looked up, and for a moment their eyes met. Backing off from her on the dirt road, he raised his hands.

David had always said she was a great judge of character. That was one of the reasons why he loved her so much. It didn't always work to her advantage, however.

Like now.

For the terrified look in his eyes, coupled with him shaking his head in what seemed to be utter despair, made her doubt for a second if he was indeed capable of murdering a child.

_Of course he can, you fool. Despair probably drove him to do it!_

Then, before she could utter a single word, the blond turned and ran.

Finding herself unable to fire, Belinda just stood there, gun aimed at his back. When he disappeared into the undergrowth she led out a sigh of relieve. _Well, _she thought, lowering the weapon. _At least that proves I'm not a killer. _

She took a couple of shaking breaths, trying to get her trembling under control before entering the pickup again. From the side window, she suddenly noticed the mailbox located at the start of the dirt road. She squinted, barely able to make out the street and house number written on it in white paint. Then her eyes followed the road, which apparently led to private property.

With a sigh she sat back in the seat. The man wouldn't be getting far. _Not in the condition he's in_, she thought. Most likely he'll hide himself for the night somewhere on that farm.

Although she felt a slight twinge of guilt, her strong sense of justice overrode her hesitation. Determined now, she started the engine, turned the pickup truck around and headed back to Bay City.

The telephone number she'd seen on television flashed through her mind. With any luck the man would still be on that farm when the search party would arrive.

* * *

**Chapter 25**

Despite his brave words spoken against his wife earlier, Starsky didn't exactly jump at the prospect of going out to find a wanted felon. So he decided to drive around town first, to see if the daylight city scenes would be able to shed some light on these images of his.

As the brunet entered the yellow cab, the cabdriver looked at him with an odd expression on his face. When Starsky pushed the subject, the man just shrugged, stating that he looked familiar somehow, that was all. After ordering the man to just drive around downtown for a while they drove off.

Instead of keeping his eye on his surroundings, however, Starsky found his thoughts drifting back to Belinda. He felt tremendously guilty for acting the way he had, for practically asking her to leave if she felt she had to. Okay, he hadn't said that in so many words, but he knew that was what he had meant. She had come all this way with him. She had stood by him all through his anxiety ordeal at the Motel earlier. Only after his announcement to try and find a suspected murderer did she draw the line.

And she was right of course. Who wouldn't hit the brakes at that? And now that she was gone he felt more lost than ever. Maybe he should just turn around and head for home.

He sighed; unable to make up his mind he turned his attention outward for a while. An hour went by as, just as the night before, nothing looked in the least familiar to him. This was getting him nowhere.

Deciding to walk around for a bit, he paid the man and got out. Walking alongside dejected looking bars and diners Starsky's mood dropped again. The people passing by were all wearing the grim expressions that city dwellers usually carried, the bums sitting in the alleyways only adding to his depression.

What was he doing here? Did he really think this 'Hutchinson' on television was somehow tied into his confusion? That was stupid! The man was a suspected criminal for crying out loud. And according to that woman he had killed her child!

Shaking his head in misery, his rumbling stomach reminded him he had skipped breakfast that morning. _I might as well get something to eat while I'm here, _he thought wryly. Maybe that will clear my head a bit. He picked out one of the many diners, and entered it. He chose to sit down at a table located in a darkened corner at the far end of the bar, where he wouldn't be bothered by the diner's other clientele.

The waitress serving him asked if he'd been here before, since he looked familiar to her, somehow. But again, that was all she could tell him.

Starsky just muttered his order and broodingly sank back in his chair. His eyes fell on the television set on the corner of the bar, silently broadcasting the local news over and over again.

With a grunt Starsky stood up to turn the thing off.

Nobody dared to turn it on again.

**

* * *

**

Delilah spotted the familiar form sitting forlornly at the table right away. Sadness washed over her as she noticed the mental state the detective was in.

Sometimes she wished she didn't have this ability to see what others couldn't. A harmony lost, a locked up soul, a light all but extinguished, but it wasn't gone, not yet.

She bit her lip.

If anything this man sure was a fighter, and although she couldn't fix what was broken, anymore than she could bring back her dead husband, she could do something else. She had to be careful though. Revealing too much could destroy the fragile hold the man had on the situation.

* * *

He didn't notice the woman entering the establishment until she was nearly on top of him. The brunet looked up as he felt someone approaching him, to find a lady purposefully stopping in front of his table. He frowned, "You're looking awfully familiar, have we met before?" Inwardly Starsky shook his head for asking the same stupid question people seemed to be asking him all day. 

A soft smile tugged at her mouth. "Very briefly, a while back, Mr. Starsky. I saw you enter and decided to follow you. Do you mind if I sit down?"

The calmness of her voice seemed to take away some of the tension he was experiencing. Ignored her question he raised an eyebrow and mocked, "Let me guess, I look familiar?"

"More than that, and I might be able to help you, if you would let me?

A glint of hope sparked in his dark blue eyes. Although still on his guard he stood up and pulled out a chair, graciously motioning for her to join him. "Now Miss…"

"Delilah, but you can call me-"

"Lilly." Starsky finished, his eyes growing slightly wider. He fell silent, as he tried to delve into the black abyss that went with the name, and failing utterly in the attempt.

She seemed to understand, and patiently waited for him to speak again.

Tired, the brunet held on to the fact that at least he knew she'd spoken the truth. Apparently they had been acquainted before. "So," Starsky said hopefully, taking a deep breath, "you know my name… what else?"

She stared at him with sad green eyes. "I'm not here to give you those answers, David. You'll have to find them for yourself."

He sat back, disappointed. Frustration colored his next question, "How? There's nothing there. Nothin' in this city rings a bell. You're the first to maybe have an answer, but you won't give it to me." He wondered briefly why he assumed she would understand his feelings, but then discarded his reservations. After all, he had nothing left to loose, and she somehow radiated a trustworthy atmosphere.

"Don't look for them out there, look for them in here." Delilah said, aiming a finger at his chest.

Realizing he might as well give her the whole picture, Starsky leaned forwards again. His voice turned slightly bitter when quite unexpectedly her words seemed to tap into a pool of fear, "The only thing I got in here are a bunch of dreams about a man who turns out to be a homicidal maniac."

"Are you sure they're dreams?"

"What else could they be?" He asked impatiently. This was getting him nowhere. Maybe if he'd hit the street again, he would stumble onto something familiar.

Unconsciously Starsky did pick up on the woman's extra sensory perceptions. Unconsciously it scared him. Normally, Hutch would be there to use his impeccable logic to counter Starsky's often out of control thoughts on all things superstitious, making fun of the brunet, settling him down.

But that was gone.

There was nothing to hold his fears in check. And the fact that Starsky did not realize where this sudden unease washing over him came from, scared him even more. With an effort he managed to hold his ground, ignoring the urge to run out onto the streets again.

"Repressed memories," she answered calmly.

Starsky froze, staring at her as if she had just dropped a bomb in his lap. "That's ridiculous," he finally said, suddenly more afraid than ever that she was right. Wasn't that why he'd come to Bay City in the first place? "Don't you think I would know? He pointed an angry finger at the television set. "I've never been to this city, and I certainly don't associate with killers."

"But you do remember him, do you? Images, pain, even during the day?"

"Maybe, and maybe it's just stress."

"Wouldn't you like to know for sure?"

Starsky eyed her thoughtfully, his breathing became slightly more erratic as he couldn't help but let some of his uncertainty slip through. "I thought you said you couldn't help me?"

"I don't have any answers, but I can help unlock some of those memories, if you want? And maybe that will help."

"I… I dunno…" He felt confused; part of him didn't want to face the truth. Part of him wanted to stay safe in the world he was in now. Then why was he trembling all of a sudden?

Lilly noticed it and gently grabbed onto his shaking hands. "You're going to have to trust me, though? You think you can do that?"

His heart throbbed in his throat. Why was this so damn hard? What was he so afraid of? Wasn't this what he'd been looking for, a way to find an answer? He breathed in deeply, trying to squash his fears. "Okay, if that's what it takes."

"Okay," she said, sitting up a bit, but not letting go of his hands. "The best thing to do is to try and find out what triggered these… images… of yours in the first place, agreed?"

He shrugged. "The dreams just started one night. I don't know why. You're saying there's a reason?"

"Maybe. If they are suppressed memories, something must have happened that caused them to surface all of a sudden."

Although Starsky couldn't think of any plausible reason, for the week in which they had started had been a perfectly ordinary one, her logic made sense. So he nodded, and looked around to make sure nobody was paying any attention to them. But he needn't have worried. Except for a costumer in a far off booth, the place had emptied.

"Now, close your eyes, relax. Try to think back to the time when these dreams first appeared. Can you picture that moment?

He nodded again. Her hands felt warm, soothing, and he found himself drifting away. With a shock he tried to stay focussed.

"No, let it," she ordered. "Now, try to recall that initial dream, the images. Try to relive it."

Starsky felt himself tense up as he raised the courage to face that part of him which scared him to death. With a trembling sigh he let the feeling of utter loneliness take hold again.

"I'll have to warn you, you'll feel a bit nauseous in a moment."

He braced himself. The nausea came all right, but so did an image so vividly that he couldn't pull away from it, no matter how hard he tried. The blue eyed, blond man didn't fade this time as Delilah helped Starsky to fight the all too familiar barriers within him.

Something violently stirred within him. Nausea intensified, he felt sick, but bravely held onto the image, to the despair he started to feel, to the love which suddenly filled his heart. Instinctively he lashed onto it. And something inside him triumphantly connected … hard… with the quiet peace that had been Hutch, right before he'd given in, and was gone.

With a silent sob, Starsky tried to pull his hands free from Lilly's grip, but she wouldn't let him.

"Not yet! … Trust me."

He whimpered as he tried to quell the unexpected pain of unbearable loss. The moment which triggered that first dream suddenly clarified, and Starsky could see it in front of him… as clear as day. And he knew… for a few seconds, who the blond man was.

_He saw his partner lying on the floor on his side, broken inside and out, staring into nothing in particular, taking in shallow breaths. _

_He saw the decision being made deep within the blond's soul, a decision born out of hopelessness and devestation. _

_Hutch gave one more conscious sigh…then calmly closed his eyes… and gave up._

And in his sleep, all those months ago, with Belinda as his witness, Starsky had cried.

With a start he found himself back in reality. His eyes watered as he pulled in his hands. Even as the knowledge of his connection to this blond man slipped through his fingers, the heartbreaking scene which he'd just experienced stayed with him. And he remembered the name.

Lilly let him go.

Gasping, he whispered, "Hutch, not Hutchinson… Hutch."

"You remember?" Lilly asked.

He shook his head, running down his face to pull himself back together. The hand closed, his fist covering his mouth. He took a couple of deep breaths. "I don't know…" he said, opening his hand, shaking his head again. "But I do know who holds all the answers."

The women in front of him gave a genuine smile.

He stood up, walked over, and firmly placed a kiss on her cheek. "Thanks," he whispered.

"Where are you going?"

"To find me a killer."

* * *

"Thank you, Belinda. Now don't worry, everything will be all right." 

"I hope so," she answered the man on the other end of the line. "I just want you to get this killer off the streets."

"It might take us a while to organize a search party and get there, but as I promised, we'll take care of it."

She hung up the phone. It bothered her somewhat that the number she'd dialed turned out to be that of the child's mother, not of the police. She shrugged. As long as the culprit was being captured, it didn't matter to her who did it, or how it was done. The man, who turned out to be the mother's brother, had sounded a bit revengeful, but who wouldn't be after your nephew had gotten murdered. The killer would get what he deserved, no more, no less.

Now that she was able to let go of the whole experience she sighed with relief.

The moment Belinda had entered the hotel room it was obvious to her that David hadn't been back here since this morning. Everything looked exactly the same since she had left. After having placed the call she was sitting on the bed, contemplating over what to do next. Deciding she might as well wait for him here, she lay down on the thick mattress.

She was nearly asleep, when the door opened and her husband walked in. A hopeful grin was added to the surprised look on the brunet's face. "Hey, you came back?"

"Yeah," she smiled, and told him what had happened. She never intended to keep him in the dark about her encounter with the blond, and hoped it would make him see enough reason to return home with her.

She was wrong.

To her astonishment he grabbed her by the arm and asked, "Do you think you can find your way back to that farm?"

"Dave-" she said in shock, her words dying in her throat as she noticed the spark of vulnerability concealed within his eyes. She'd never been able to resist that. Besides, what could possibly happen? Help would be hot on their trails, and by tonight the blond would be either captured or dead, anyway. So _what_ if her husband wanted to try and look for him? Even _if_ he was on that farm, she doubted the blond would come out of hiding. "Okay, I'll take you there, but you have to promise me you'll take the gun with you."

"Anything you say, sweetheart." He said softly and held the door open for her to exit.

She shook her head. "You're still a flatterer, did you know that?

Her husband just smiled, and closed the door behind them.

* * *

**Tbc**


	13. Chapter 26 and 27

**Author's note: **the events in chapter 26 are part of a dream I had last winter. I knew then that this was the way the reunion scene should play out. Finally, half a year later, and thanks to the help of all you good people, I'm ready to post it. It might, or might not be the reunion you hoped to see, but I hope I won't disappoint you and that you'll enjoy reading it.

**Warning: **these chapters contain a disturbing scene that might be viewed as senseless acts of violence.

Thanks to the usual suspects!

* * *

**Chapter 26**

They'd tried the front door, but nobody seemed to be home.

The barnyard was covered in silence. Starsky stood in the middle of it. His wife stood a little to the side. "You're sure he's here?"

Belinda answered thoughtfully, "Not a full hundred percent. No. But judging by his appearance, I think he was lucky enough to get this far. Besides, there isn't another farm around here for miles."

Taking a careful step forwards, Starsky meticulously watched the surrounding buildings. They were standing in front of the main house. The wings consisting of large stables and a wide barn containing a hayloft, enveloped the yard like two surrounding arms, leaving an open space to serve as the road entrance where the two arms met.

The barnyard was covered with soft white sand, with pavement heading alongside the buildings. A few white-cottoned clouds in the otherwise crystal blue afternoon air covered part of the farm in cold shadows.

"Hutch?" Starsky's raw uncertain voice was clearly audible across the yard.

He closed his eyes for a second, shutting out his wife, trying to focus on the feelings Lilly had managed to draw out of him an hour ago. What to say to a man he wasn't even sure really existed? What to say to a man whom he'd only seen fleeting images from on television? Who might be the ruthless killer everyone made him out to be?

The brunet opened his eyes, clearing his throat to try again. If there was any truth to the life he'd been leading so far, he would find out now. He decided to just go with the flow and let his senses guide him.

"Hutch?" His voice was firm now, as he started to walk across the yard. Belinda, who had been raised on a farm, had told him that if the man were hiding here, it would probably be somewhere near the barn area, so that was where he was heading.

"It's me… Starsky," he continued to walk. "Would you please come out? I'd like to talk to you."

A few chickens scuttled the dust in front of him as he neared the large barn. He stopped on the threshold, uncertain about what to do next. The dark, dusty space looked hostile, and empty. He walked inside.

"Do you even remember me?" He asked, letting his eyes wander over the barn's interior and the dark hayloft. "I remember you… Well, flashes of you really… I remember you running… then standing still and getting shot."

Starsky hesitated before continuing quietly. "I remember me going crazy over it."

A soft shuffling sound came from above. His head snapped up, suddenly certain that he wasn't talking to thin air. The certainty inside him kept whispering to keep talking. "… I don't remember 'why', though… sorry."

He sighed. "It's so frustrating not to remember. All I remember are some feelings… images."

He carefully walked on, soundlessly, because the floor was covered with a thin layer of dry straw. slowly his eyes got used to the dark as they stole over the shape of massive wooden beams above his head, almost running into the iron bulk of an old tractor as he did so.

"Were we close? Huh? Cos, I really don't know," he said, pulling away from the large metallic farm equipment and heading deeper into the barn. "All I know is I've got this empty feelin' inside me and it just won't go away... Look, if you'd just show yourself, talk to me, maybe we can make some sense of this mess we're in."

Silence.

"Damn," Starsky cursed, shaken a bit by his own confession. He was beginning to doubt Hutch was even here. Maybe it was just a rat he'd heard. However, his heart was telling him a different story, and that ruled his actions right now.

"Hutch…" he continued softly. "I know you're here…"

He turned around, walking slowly back towards the exit. "I know you didn't do it… I know you loved that kid, I-" The brunet stopped talking and walking at the same time. He looked up, confused as to how he would know that.

An image of a daisy drifted by.

"Hutch, the flowers… D' you remember the flowers?" He shook his head, and lowered it with a snort, trying to get a grip on himself as he felt like a crazed preacher man talking to the sky to no one in particular… about a bunch of flowers. "Don't know what that means either though…"

"Me and thee, buddy."

The soft spoken voice descending from the loft seemed to freeze all motion, both outside and inside his body. Starsky felt his heart skipping a few beats as Hutch's presence instantly filled it, making him realize that he wasn't crazy. All the stuff he'd been dreaming, seeing, hearing, all of it… was real. All of it… was part of him. All of it… was true.

"Yeah," he smiled, looking up. "Yeah."

The familiar voice did something else, it triggered a memory. He saw his partner pulling back from him as they were standing in a long dark corridor belonging to a large house, and he heard his own angry voice echo from the past. W_hat about… me and thee?_ _Huh? Buddy? What happened to that?_ Slowly the image began to make sense

Starsky started to walk around again, his eyes never leaving the loft. Now that he knew Hutch was up there, he could go up, and search for him. But he didn't want to do that. It was better if the man was to come to him.

"Hutch… I remember the trust we had… I-" he halted as suddenly, a whole load of emotions flooded into his voice.

_Your soul will remember… _Delilah's words, he recalled them.

Tears stung his eyes. "I… Jesus… Hutch… we were… partners…" he stopped as he realized he was ranting. Desperately, he threw his hands in the air. "Will you come out now, please, huh?"

The silence was penetrated by another soft spoken reply. "They'll kill me… Starsk."

The brunet bit his lip, shaking his head. "No, I won't let them… You didn't do it! You-"

Another memory ruthlessly pushed aside all other images: They were standing in a large storage area… surrounded. He saw the blond, gun in hand… ordering him to get out. He gasped at the sudden scene replaying in his head, the words he'd said back then and the words he kept hearing now. _Are you crazy! They will kill you!_

"You… you threw me out." He spoke softly, facing the floor in astonishment, trembling all over as he started to recall the whole event. "Jesus… you held them off."

He looked up as his eyes started to water. "You got shot… I saw it… And I left you there. Oh… God… I just… left you there!" Too overwhelmed with shock, his anger took the opportunity to slip out. "God dammit, Hutch! Will you come out, now! Please!"

Silence descended once again, around him and in his heart.

* * *

A noise came from behind him, from the hayloft. Starsky turned to see Hutch standing there, beneath a sturdy wooden ladder. He wasn't just an illusion, he was real. 

His friend… Feelings rushed him. Tears stung his eyes again as he took in the site. A feeling of protectiveness he hadn't felt in a long, long time covered him like a warm blanket. Hutch stood there, looking forlorn, lost, much like he did when they both had arrested Ben Forest.

That memory made him gasp.

The silent blond man in front of him looked so much worse right now. His eyes were sad, broken. Still, Hutch tentatively reached out with one hand as if trying to touch a mirage, not really sure it was there. "Starsk?"

The soft spoken word caused something to explode in the brunet's head. And he remembered. Oh God he remembered… everything! He took a staggering step forwards to slowly close his fingers around his partner's hand. It was shaking. He grabbed it more firmly, feeling the tremors shooting through the both of them.

The warmth… Hutch was real. All of this was real.

He shook his head, too overwhelmed and just smiled.

"I… I had to get you out of there… I couldn't let… Forest-" Hutch's quivering voice was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard. "It wasn't your fault … It-"

Starsky just pulled him in, holding him tight in a hug they both so very much needed. He closed his eyes, drinking in the reality and letting a few tears slip.

Hutch just mumbled through a few tears of his own, "You couldn't help it… you couldn't."

The sounds of multiple car engines grew louder, apparently closing in on their position. They let go of each other, and the blond took a frightened step back. "Starsk, I didn't do it… I …"

The helplessness Starsky saw coursing through his terrified partner broke his heart. "I know."

As the blond was standing there, watching the road from the barn entrance in apathy, the brunet knew Hutch had come to the end of the line. He was too tired to hide anymore, too tired to fight.

"I know," he repeated steadfastly as six cars entered the barnyard.

It was too late to run.

* * *

**Chapter 27**

Belinda stood at the sideline, watching. Tears streamed down her face as she recognized the scene for what it was: the reunion of two lost souls. She knew it was right, she knew she'd been wrong, and that she had made a terrible mistake by calling in the troops. Her attention drifted towards the car's driving up the dirt road.

"Protect him!" She shouted as she headed for the first car to head it off, determined to undo what she had done, if it wasn't already too late.

* * *

"Bell!" Starsky yelled in fear, but was unable to move, or go after her. He had just found Hutch. He couldn't just leave him again. 

Belinda turned halfway, shouting again, angry this time. Her voice sounded shrill, and tearful, "Protect him!"

The dust settled as the cars halted their forward motion in front of the woman standing in their paths. Doors opened, releasing at least three men per car.

Starsky pushed Hutch back beneath the dark recesses of the hayloft, and reached for his gun.

The crowd, consisting of at least twenty people, started to move in his direction as soon as they'd spotted the brunet.

"Listen to me!" Belinda shouted.

Walking in the front line, Helen and her three brothers stopped to look at her.

"You're making a mistake! You're condemning an innocent man!"

"Innocent?" Helen spat out the words. "I saw that man with the blood of Tommy on his hands!"

"He didn't do it! It was probably a setup!"

One of Helen's brothers took a step forwards. "I remember your voice. You called us; gave us this location. You were on our side? What happened? Did he get to you?"

"No, no, no," unable to conceal the despair in her voice, his wife's eyes flew back to Starsky.

Suddenly, sounding from an unseen position in the crowd, Karl's voice rang through the air, shouting out loud, "There he is!"

They all spotted Hutch standing slightly concealed behind the brunet. The bloodthirsty, angry crowd rushed forwards.

Starsky's heart sank into his stomach as he saw his wife being roughly thrown aside. She hit the sand with a dull thud. He looked over his shoulder, spotting his partner taking a step back. Their eyes locked for a moment. The familiar feeling of speaking without words, told the brunet of the pure terror now coursing through the blond's body.

Turning his attention back onto the crowd, Starsky pulled out the gun, which he'd taken out of the glove compartment earlier and had tucked into the back of his pants. He aimed, yelling a warning, "Get back!"

But he might as well have tried and stop an oncoming storm, they didn't listen. He shot one round in front to Helen's feet.

She skidded to a halt.

"Get back! Don't come any closer!" Starsky yelled fiercely.

The crowd behind Helen surged forwards, moving Helen along with them. For a second, Starsky hesitated, torn between saving his partner, and shooting at innocent people gone crazy by the crowds killing mentality.

Someone yelled at Hutch in hateful aggression. "GET HIM! GET HIM!"

The moment of indecision passed as fear seemed to close an icy hand around his soul. "GOD DAMMIT, HE DIDN'T DO IT! HE DIDN'T DO IT!" Starsky was about to fire another warning shot, when a vicious kick in his back, coming from behind, sent his gun sailing through the air… and well out of reach.

He fought off his attacker, who tried to lock his arms behind him, only to have to fight off three more men, while the rest of the crowd ran past him. "NO!" Caught in the fury of the fight he managed to catch a glimpse of a dozen people descending on his partner. "HE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!" He yelled in despair as he realized he couldn't stop them.

"HUTCH!"

* * *

Hutch tried to back away, but there was no escape route left. One man gave him a full blow to the face. He tried to block it, but couldn't block the next one directed at his stomach, or the next one, or the next one. 

With each kick the crowd seemed to go more berserk.

He fell down on his knees, and was beaten to the ground where he curled up in a useless attempt to protect himself.

* * *

Starsky managed to shake off his attackers as their attention momentarily shifted to the aggressive attack going on in the barn. He didn't waist any time, and ran for the commotion. 

"DAVID!"

Belinda's panicked scream made him turn just in time to see Karl aiming at him. With his own gun no less.

Karl smiled.

Starsky stood way out in the open. There was no place to hide. Karl… The man who'd set them up, who'd driven them apart, who'd destroyed his memories, his life… now tried to kill the both of them.

As Karl fired, Belinda jumped in front of the man… and sank to the ground. Shock riddled the brunet's face, but Karl only smiled, and fired again.

No bullets, no sound. The gun was empty.

Starsky didn't wait to see what happened next. He spun around, tears stinging his eyes as he thought of Belinda, her words still ringing in his ears. _Protect him!_

He dove headfirst into the wild crowd, screaming, beating, and viciously fighting people off. He reached his partner who was lying on the floor, desperately trying to protect his head and chest area… unmoving. He realized Hutch had lost consciousness.

Starsky did the only thing he could think of, and threw himself onto his partner, protecting him from the blows that kept coming, cashing them in himself. He heard the crowd yelling crazy lines like: Get him off! Get them apart! And going even crazier when Starsky held on to his partner like a pit bull.

The scene became surreal. In the midst of the beating, pulling and shoving, the close touch with his partner finally broke down all remaining barriers. He remembered holding him when Forest had first drugged the blond, he remembered Hutch taking care of him after he'd been shot in that restaurant, he remembered Terry; he remembered Gillian.

He remembered what had happened when Karl had injected him. He remembered the forgetting… the pain… the broken bond… so this time, his heart, his soul, his body held on… tight.

Sirens suddenly shattered the air. Reality, presented by half of Bay City's police force rushing onto the scene apparently knocked some sense into the heads of these people, for the beatings stopped.

Within no time the crowd had dispersed.

Groggily Starsky unwind his cramped muscles, stiffly letting go of his partner. He put his feet beneath him, and slowly stood up. Blinking he took in the scene. A dozen or more police cars had come to a halt, their blue and red lights ricocheting off the walls and faces alike.

Both Hutch and his wife Belinda were lying still on the ground.

He closed his eyes, biting his lip to fight back tears. He knew his wife was dead. He opened them again to look at his partner. Unconsciousness had left the blond no longer curled up in a ball, badly bruised, but still alive.

He got down to his knees and picked him up. The man had lost such an amount of weight that he wasn't even heavy. Silently he carried him past the barn doors, and out into the open. He stopped for a brief moment at the body of Belinda. He closed his eyes, pushing away the grief he knew had to be released sooner or later. He could mourn her later. Right now he had to focus on the living. Then he walked on, carrying his friend away from there.

* * *

**Tbc**


	14. Final chapters

**Author's note:** this is it, the final chapters. I'd like to thank all you readers, whether you reviewed or not, for reading this story and for your enthusiastic comments you've sent me. It has been a real educating experience to write such an emotionally rollercoaster filled story, and I could never have done it without the help of Strut. So big HUGS to you. Again some of the lines written below are hers. Also, thank you Wuemsel for your enthusiasm and for helping me to keep the guys in character! 

I tried to finish all the storylines, but if you still have questions, please feel free to email me.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 28**

"Well, I should have known you were here." Huggy dropped down onto a chair opposite the brunet's bed, and put his feet up. "Starsky, d' you know half of the nursing staff is looking for you?"

The bartender had paid a brief visit to the room where Starsky was supposed to be recuperating - two floors up – and just in time had spotted the head nurse talking irately to her staff in the middle of the empty room. She was demanding to know how a patient of theirs could have disappeared overnight. Huggy had backed off quietly as he had a hunch where Starsky might have gone.

"Sorry," Starsky said softly, "but I decided to move my sleeping accommodations down here, until he wakes up."

"The nurses won't be happy about that, my man." His eyes locked onto the still form on the second bed.

"Yeah, well, I'm not leavin'."

Huggy watched his tired friend trying to sit up, and wondered how he had managed to drag himself two floors down in the first place. "Where did you get the bed?"

Starsky showed a wry little grin. "I kinda took it with me."

Shaking his head, the bartender wisely decided not to delve into that statement too much. He smiled inwardly; no wonder the head nurse had been livid.

"Hug," Starsky said gratefully, "I owe you, we both do, big time."

Huggy just shrugged, "Happy to oblige."

After the police had been informed about the murder at Helen's place, and learned the identity of the possible suspect, Dobey had sent his man out to look for Hutch at once. However, the local news had thrown the entire investigation in a downward spiral, as Metro had become swamped with phone calls from anxious citizens who were demanding to know why the police were covering up for one of their detectives. "You should've seen Dobey when that female reporter appeared on his doorstep," the bartender had said, grinning at the thought. "For a moment I thought he was gonna throttle her right then, and there."

The point was that Dobey and his men were constantly running behind facts. By the time they appeared on the scene at the diner, where the first mob scene had taken place, Hutch had been long gone. They never would have found the guys in time if Huggy hadn't got wind of this so called 'search party' Karl had put together. An unknown tipster had given the bartender the farm's address, and he'd immediately alerted Dobey.

"How's he doing?" Huggy asked with certain trepidation in his voice.

Starsky gave a slight shake of his head. "I don't know… Doc says he should be waking up soon, but so far he's just… lying there."

The bartender could see the worry etched into the brunet's face. "Hey, don't worry. From what I've heard his injuries aren't too severe: a couple of bruises, a few bumps in the head and two broken ribs. He'll come out of it."

"Yeah," Starsky said unconvinced. Huggy frowned, looking over to the blond. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Starsky had prevented a far worse outcome of events by protecting Hutch in the way that he had. The brunet showed some bruises of his own, but it was nothing compared to Hutch's visible injuries, whose left side of his face was black and blue as he lay unmoving in the hospital bend, still unconscious.

"What if he doesn't want to?"

That question sent a chill up Huggy's spine. He had been there when Starsky had carried his partner over to the waiting ambulance. It was a scene he wasn't liable to forget any time soon. While Dobey and his man were rounding up as much of the crowd as possible, Huggy learned from a first hand witness what had happened. He still shuddered at the thought of what he and Dobey would have found if they had arrived five minutes later.

"He'll be all right, bro," Huggy tried to soothe the man. Part of him was relieved that the brunet had moved in with Hutch, for the bartender had known the two long enough to realise that right now Starsky's presence was what the blond needed the most. "Look, I gotta go. Don't want to rile up the nursing staff anymore than they already are. Want me to let them know where you are?"

"Go ahead, they'll find out eventually, anyway."

"'Kay, just call the Bear if you need anything, you hear?"

"Sure, thanks Hug."

Casting one last look on the still blond features, Huggy quietly left the room.

* * *

It had been three days. And Hutch was still unconscious. Sitting at his bedside, the brunet stroked his partner's hand. The worry was now edged into Starsky's face. _Come on, buddy, and wake up._

Until the results of the drug test came in, Starsky had been ordered to stay hospitalised. Only when the test concluded that enough of the drug had left his system, was he allowed to go home.

Home.

How long had it been since he'd thought of his place at Ridgeway Avenue as home? It was a miracle the place was still his to rent. However unlikely it sounded, the Feds had kept the rent going on it, as well as on Venice place. His mouth had dropped to the floor at that bit of information, but as Dobey had said: "The FBI doesn't like loose ends."

He sighed; that much was true. After Starsky had made his statement, the police had contacted the Federal Bureau, who, of course, stated that they had never heard of an agent Donalds or Michaels. If those men did exist, they certainly weren't working for the government. They were probably Forest's men. And that was that. Karl got the blame for the entire operation.

But Karl had escaped.

There was an APB out on him. After all, he was wanted for the kidnapping and torture of two police officers and these were just two of the many charges. But he wasn't wanted for murder. Starsky's testimony wasn't enough to convict him for the murders on all those kids Karl had used as test subjects, especially since his memory wasn't a full hundred percent yet. Dobey had his men search the old factory, but every trace of the drug had disappeared. _Courtesy of the FBI_, Starsky thought bitterly.

The police had Helen and her three brothers in custody, but they refused to talk about their connection to the Forests. They were convinced Hutch had killed Tommy, and stuck to that story. Dobey needed Hutch's testimony to set things straight. Like Starsky, he sincerely believed in the blond's innocence.

He stared at his partner again. Huggy was right, the bruises and broken bones would heal. But something didn't feel right. Something made his stomach clench in worry every time he looked at the still form in the bed beside him. It was an almost tangible fear caused by the fact that he didn't know what Karl had done to the blond. The few facts he was aware of, were only adding to Starsky's tension, making him feel frustrated and angry, for his need to stop six months worth of torture fell on useless grounds, as it had already happened. _Why the hell doesn't he wake up?_

There was no movement whatsoever.

It frightened him.

Quietly he shook his head as the helpless anger turned into grief. He missed Bell. It ached, it hurt, and it was confusing. Because six months had been stolen from him. He felt as though he'd just woken up from a long daydream, to find that his worst fears had come true. And finding Hutch in the state he was in nearly broke him apart. But on the other hand, there was Belinda. How could he ever be sorry for those six months away from it all? She had been a continuing support, and he loved her. He truly loved her. If he'd known in advance that her death was the price he had to pay for getting his old life back, would he still have done it? Would he have gone after Hutch?

He watched the man lying quietly underneath the sheets, and brushed the blond strands of hair out of his face. _God, I need you, Hutch. I can't loose you both._ "You would have liked her, buddy." He said out loud, "She was… well, she wasn't Terry. But she had her own… special way about her. She was-"

He shook his head, closing his eyes, momentarily loosing his composure as grief overwhelmed him. There was no one around to see him. It was late, and nightshift at the hospital had already started. After three days of holding himself together, of fighting back the tears he felt the moment he'd seen Belinda fall, he finally broke down, burying himself into the white sheets. One hand still held his partner's, while the other pulled on Hutch's body beneath him. He clenched it in silent sobs, for Belinda, for Hutch, for what had happened to them…

He needed his partner, desperately, but the blond just lay still, there was no reaction at all.

* * *

The screams were terrifying. The hands of so many people were groping for him as he ran through endless empty corridors, searching for a light, for a way out. Loneliness covered him like a thick black blanket, choking him, pushing him down, and forcing him to his knees. 

With a soundless gasp, Hutch woke up.

The dark was everywhere. Confused his eyes searched for something familiar. He didn't recognise anything. He froze, frightened. He didn't have a clue where he was, or how he got here. The icy grip of fear was still very much a part of him.

Clenching the sheets with both hands, he slowly recalled the surreal run, the people, and the madness. Then Starsky had been there, in his dream. God he'd been there.

Inwardly Hutch sobbed, moaning a loss, which he knew, would kill him eventually.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers, fighting down the dread, and then turned his head. In the shadows someone else was lying in a bed next to him. He stared at it for a long time; unable to figure out whether it was real or not.

With an effort he let go of his paralysing fear and pulled back the blankets. Almost instantly a stabbing pain originating from his chest area almost made him cry out. Mixing up the agony of his body with the pain resonating from his soul, a disoriented Hutch desperately tried to force the pain down, not wanting to let Karl know how much the devastation inside him still hurt.

Biting his lip, he managed to get up.

Hutch put his bare feet on the cold floor, then let go of the bed. Taking small careful footsteps, he walked over to his neighbor, his eyes and mind focused on the form lying in the large bed. Recognising the shape, he blinked a couple of times, before slowly reaching out to touch the sleeping man. A small whisper escaped his throat, "Starsky?"

His tortured soul rejected the reality in front of him.

This had to be another one of Karl's sick little games. It was all a lie, for there was nothing left for him in the real world, just death and pain. Hutch wishfully closed a hand around the brunet's arm. The heavily sedated man did not wake up. The blond sighed as a tear ran freely down his face. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real.

_God, if only it was real._

* * *

Starsky woke up out of a deep slumber. Whatever the nurse, who'd found him sitting at his partner's bedside, had given him last night, it sure had done the trick. He'd been out like a light. He took in a sharp breath as the pain originating from numerous bruises announced its presence again. 

His eyes suddenly snapped open as he realised something heavy was pressing down on his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe. Wide awake in an instant, he desperately tried to get rid of the offending object, only to freeze halfway through the motion when he noticed Hutch lying next to him, his arm draped across his chest, and he was sleeping soundly.

Starsky frowned in utter surprise. _How the hell did he get over here? When did this happen? He was unconscious last night! _

Relaxing, the brunet lay back down into the soft pillow again, staring at the white plaster of the ceiling. "Damn," he whispered, and closed his left hand's fingers gently around Hutch's wrist to hold it tight. For he was all too aware of how utterly messed up his once independent strong partner must be for moving over to him and crawling into bed with him like a frightened child, with two broken ribs no less.

He swallowed away the now aching worry threatening to close his throat, and grabbed the wrist a bit tighter in a trembling grip._ One hundred and eighty days. That's how long Karl had you all to himself, _he thought angry, _and that _never_ should have happened_.

"Starsk?"

Opening his eyes again, he found his partner staring at him.

The blond pulled back his arm, obviously confused as to how he got here.

"Hey," Starsky said softly. "Welcome back, partner."

"You're real?"

"You tell me. You almost squashed me to death with that arm of yours."

Hutch watched him. There was no funny retort as he lay there watching the brunet; there was just the face of a broken man. "You're here. You came back?"

Starsky nodded.

"Y…you remembered?"

"You're kinda hard to forget, Blintz."

To Starsky's shock, tears started to appear in the blond's eyes, and the blues in front of him started to look… empty. Trying to soothe that emptiness, he reached out to gently wipe the drops away with one of his fingers. Just the fact that he was allowed to do so, sent his concern into overdrive. Hutch wasn't the kind of person to cry easily. The whole world had to come crashing down around him, before the man would shed a tear. But the blond in front of him, wasn't the same one he'd left in the hands of Karl Forest. This was the broken one from his dreams.

Suddenly self-conscious Hutch pulled away and tried to sit up. With a yell of pain he fell back again.

"Hutch, you fool. You've got two broken ribs, so don't move. _I'll _get to the other bed." Not feeling too well, Starsky paused to sit very still on the bedside for a moment. As the doctor's had said, his system still wasn't fully clear of the drug; the headache and nausea were still there, albeit to a lesser degree. At certain times he felt himself drifting back to that blissful state of forgetfulness.

Everything had happened so fast. Just a week ago his whole world had consisted of Burnaby and the small restaurant his wife had owned. He lowered his eyes with grief. He hadn't even been able to make it to Belinda's funeral. She'd been taken back to Canada, to be buried on the small town's local graveyard, today.

He missed her.

During all the time the drug had taken effect on him, she'd been the one who had kept him from going crazy. She had taken his dreams seriously, and she had gone with him, even though she didn't agree wholeheartedly with his actions. If it weren't for her, he doubted he would have found Hutch in time.

He suddenly realised he was still sitting on the bedside, and turned at the movement behind him.

Shivers were shooting through his partner's body.

"Hutch, Hey," Startled, Starsky considered pressing the button to call the nurse. "Hutch, I'm here, I'm not going anywhere." He stated, putting a hand on the blond's shoulder.

"You're _not_," Hutch whispered, staring into the air above him.

"What?"

"You're not here. It's gone, empty… God it feels so empty, Starsk… and it hurts. It hurts."

Starsky put his other hand on top of his arm, but Hutch rejected him, wiping away the hands from his body. His eyes locked onto his partner, but they held no warmth as he asked, "Give me a moment, huh? Please?"

Starsky pulled back, "Yeah, sure."

_God, what's happened to you out there? _He thought. For a fleeting moment the look in his partner's eyes scared him to bits, and for a second he doubted if they were able to regain what they'd lost.

Feeling defeated, he maneuvred himself to Hutch's previous bed where he lay down quietly.

Tired, he noticed his partner had fallen asleep again.

* * *

**Chapter 29**

It was strange, but Starsky's image, gliding in and out of his dreams, sometimes seemed so vivid that Hutch nearly cried. Afraid to loose what sanity he had left, the blond desperately tried to keep the hallucination away from him. And it seemed to work. He pretended to listen to it, to bear with whatever this dreamlike partner was whispering in his ears, but he never let it in. It wasn't the real Starsky; so he didn't allow his feelings to connect with this ghost from the past.

"Come on, Hutch. You gotta eat."

With closed eyes, the blond tried to ignore him, but the man went on, "You used to love all this health food. Doc says it's good for you."

"I don't want it, you eat it if you like it so much," he said, hoping that would silence the voice. He pried open one eye to see the image watching the plate with a distasteful look on his face.

"Now if this were a burrito… with onions…" the image contemplated.

Hutch froze. This started to sound far too much like the real Starsky.

The ghostly image looked up. "Are you all right?"

Mesmerised Hutch could feel himself being pulled out of the safe haven he had created. Realising his loss of control he snapped out of it and quickly looked away. _Don't answer it, just don't answer it, _he recited

The blond suddenly felt a hand on his arm. Startled, he roughly flung it off of him, knocking over the plate in the process, and sending the food flying through the room. The plate clattered onto the floor. "I told you I don't want it, now leave me alone!" Hutch said fiercely, focusing two angry eyes at the hallucination.

The image stood there, looking shocked.

Something inside the blond stirred, wanting to reach out, to comfort the brunet in front of him, but he squashed it, causing pain to well up inside. He closed his eyes. "Just go away," He whispered.

Without another word the image obeyed.

* * *

Hutch's wounds slowly healed, and gradually he started to accept the current reality he was in, recovering enough to give a statement to the police. To Dobey's satisfaction, the blond's revelation that Karl had been the one who'd killed Tommy didn't miss its effect on Helen and her three brothers. They caved and spilled the beans on Forest and his entire operation. Hutch's name was officially cleared, and Karl was now wanted for murder one. 

Starsky didn't feel too well. The doctors had cautioned him to take it easy if he didn't want to have a relapse, but he hadn't exactly obeyed, and after a shouting match with the chief surgeon in charge of his partner, the brunet had lain down quietly – fully clothed - on his bed. He had thrown the doc's recommendations back into his face, announcing that as soon as Hutch was feeling better, he would take him home, and not, as the man pushed him to do, to the psychological ward.

Although he was long since released from the hospital, Starsky stubbornly remained at his partner's side. This didn't go down to well with the doctors either. Finally, Dobey had to step in, and ordered the staff to allow Starsky to guard Hutch, since Karl was still at large.

The brunet felt as if he'd swallowed a fistful of stones every time Hutch looked at him. The man was cold, distant. There was none of the old Hutch left in those eyes. There wasn't a shred of comfort, a shred of compassion, a shred of love. Shivering, Starsky wondered if the doctors had been right. That Hutch needed to be admitted. _No_. _He's been locked up enough to last him a lifetime. He doesn't need any more people messing with his mind_.

Although he had acted pretty much like himself, Hutch hadn't said much to either Huggy or Dobey, that day. He just answered their questions politely and even put in a joke or two. On the outside, all seemed well. But all parties present knew it was a whole different ballgame on the inside.

It was late in the evening, and after one of his failed efforts to try getting the blond to show some feeling, any feeling it all, Starsky had given up. Lying down his bed, he looked over into the shadows. _You're here, but at the same time, you're not. _Although he knew that Hutch would never ignore him consciously, the blond's behaviour kept rubbing his guilt in, guilt on the one hand for not being there when his partner had needed him the most, but on the other for not feeling truly sorry for his six months with Belinda. _God Bell, I'm so sorry that you had to-" _He closed his eyes, forcing down grief.

Finally he drifted away into an uneasy slumber.

"Starsk?"

The lone voice sounding small in the dark room awoke the brunet at once.

Starsky turned his head to face his partner. "Yeah," he spoke softly, "What is it?"

No answer came forth.

He turned on the overhead lights, which instantly bathed the room in a soft yellow glow, to find his partner staring at the ceiling, and trembling beneath the sheets. "Hutch?" He jumped out of bed to move over.

"Tell me," Hutch's voice quivered as he spoke. Fear filled blue eyes focussed onto the brunet. A pain whirled deep within them as Hutch apparently tried to wake up from this terrible nightmare, "Tell me it was all a bad dream."

His voice sounded like the blond Starsky knew, a small and terrified voice, which had trouble finding its way out. Hutch reached out a hand. It felt cold in Starsky's palm, and instinctively he started to rub it with his thumb, "Hutch, it's over… you made it… you're out."

The blond shook his head, his eyes unfocussed, seemingly to watch straight through Starsky. "I can't… see you anymore, all I see… is Karl…and Tommy. Starsk…" he stopped, gasping and clenching his eyes shut in a wave of pain that had nothing to do with his physical state.

Starsky felt the fist beneath his touch clench, so he grabbed onto it with both hands. The contact seemed to ease the trembles somewhat.

Hutch continued in a whispered hoarse voice, "I don't want that anymore… I want it… to stop… Can you make it stop?"

Starsky had to bite his lip to quell the rising anger forming inside and held the fist down against Hutch's chest. "Shhhh, I'm here… I'm right here. Karl's gone."

"He is?

"Yeah."

"He left me?"

_What?_ Starsky thought confused. "Hutch," he said with an angry bite to it, pinching the hand for a second to get the blond focussed on him again. "You're in the hospital. The dream's over, buddy."

Hutch turned to look at him, recognition flowing back into his features. Then he pulled his hand back and turned away to lie on his side. "I know," he said softly.

Stubbornly trying to maintain the contact, Starsky jumped onto the bed. "Hey, I called your parents, yesterday."

"Yeah?"

Though he couldn't see his face, Starsky couldn't help but notice the hint of coldness in the blond's voice. "Yeah, it was the first time I've ever heard your mother cry."

Silence answered that statement.

Starsky had the feeling that his partner needed to hear this and went on, "They never stopped looking. Did you know that?" Hutch's breathing started to sound shallow, and the brunet knew his partner was trying to keep in suppressed emotions, so he purposefully added, "Dobey told me your father even has a lawsuit running against the department."

Despite the agony it must have caused to his broken ribs, Hutch crawled in on himself.

Starsky put a hand on the blond's shoulder in an attempt to soothe the impact his story seemed to have on him. Trying very hard to ignore his partner's misery, at the same time, Starsky continued cheerfully, "They wanna come see ya."

Hutch carefully turned to lie on his back with a pain filled expression on his face, staring at the ceiling. "What…" he swallowed away a tear. "What about your mother?"

"Well, you know how she hates flying," he replied, carefully checking to see if Hutch's bandages hadn't loosened, "So I promised her we'll pay her a visit as soon as you're well enough."

That wasn't exactly true. His mother had wanted to fly overright aftershe'd heard his voice, and said as much.This was seconds after she'd yelled at him through her tears to not ever do something like this to her again. He had held her off, gently, just as he'd told Hutch's parents not to come immediately, for he knew both he and his partner needed to heal first.

"I can't… I can't see them… not yet."

"Don't worry. It won't happen until I give the green light."

"Thanks," Hutch relaxed a bit.

"Do you think you can manage to catch some sleep, buddy?"

Hutch closed his eyes and nodded.

After giving a gently squeeze in his partner's arm, Starsky moved back to his own bed. It bothered him that Hutch had never really looked at him once.

* * *

The next day Hutch was back to his cold self. It started to affect Starsky physically. He was getting more tired each day, but patiently kept trying to reach out, always pulling back when Hutch wanted him to, never acting angrily at his partner's rejections. 

Then sometimes at night, and only at night, the old Hutch was back. A broken, pain filled man, who latched on to Starsky, but never quite seemed to gain the strength to climb out of the pit he'd fallen into. At those times, Starsky just held him, told him it was all right, that he was here, and that he would never leave him again.

It didn't help much.

After one such particularly bad night, in which Starsky had nearly exhausted himself trying to soothe the quivering blond, and believed he finally managed to establish some form of permanent contact, the brunet had woken up, to find Hutch staring at him with cold, empty eyes again.

It all became too much.

The look Hutch shot him was one of utter contempt, apparently at finding the brunet to be still there. Starsky got dressed and moved away before the blond could throw his bitter words at him. He left the room, as an angry rage, filled with frustration and unchecked emotion, threatened to spill out.

He marched over to the vending machine and hit it hard with his fist. Forcing down the tears that had momentarily glazed his eyes, he caught his breath and calmed down somewhat.

"Starsky, are you all right?" The gruff voice of his captain sounded hesitantly through the hallway.

Heaving, Starsky whipped around, trying to keep his feelings from Dobey, but knowing he might as well not bother, for the man looked at him the way a father would, with a frown on his face, and sympathy hidden underneath. For a moment the brunet was at a loss for words.

Dobey seemed to notice and said, "It might do you some good to know that we've got Karl in custody."

Starsky looked his captain straight in the eye, "When?"

"He was brought in this morning. The FBI tipped us on his whereabouts."

"Guess he's going to take the fall for them, isn't he? Is he talking?"

Dobey shook his head in a negative, then added quickly as he seemed to notice the look in the brunet's eyes, "No, and I don't think you harassing him is going to do any good!"

"He's mine, Captain," Starsky said in a voice as cold as Hutch's. "I need to know what happened to my partner. And he's gonna tell me."

"Yeah, well…" Dobey said soberly, "just promise me that you'll leave the furniture intact this time."

Starsky nodded grimly.

"Come on, I'll give you a ride to the station." They walked to the exit. "By the way, we got your car there too, so you can get back here on your own."

"Thanks, Cap." Starsky said, distracted.

"And wear this," Dobey handed him a holster, Beretta and shield. "I can't have you marching through the station without it. And try not to loose them next time. Do you know how expensive these are?"

Starsky couldn't help but smile softly at his Captain's casual berating. It felt good. It felt normal. And God, he needed a bit of normalcy right now. But then the smile faded as he thought of the job ahead of him. Karl. He honestly couldn't tell how he would react to facing that man again.

Dobey seemed to read his mind, "Starsky?" When the brunet didn't respond he stated more demandingly, "Starsky!"

The brunet looked at him.

"You're still a cop, remember that."

Starsky nodded silently.

* * *

"Do you really want me to tell you what happened to him?" Karl said in a voice bereft of all warmth as he sat at the small wooden table in one of Metro's interrogation rooms. "For one thing, he killed Tommy." 

Starsky threateningly moved in closer towards him, until he could smell the cold evil breath the man released. "You're going down for murder One, Karl. Both Helen and Hutch's testimonies will make sure of that. It makes no difference what you claim to be true, so you might as well spill it."

The man shrugged, and then spoke monotonously, "I broke him."

There was a brief silence in which Starsky stood up to face the wall behind him. He refused to believe it was that bad. There was always hope. But as he continued to listen, his thoughts halted at the scenes the man was so vividly describing. Scenes that slowly but steadily chopped away at Hutch's walls.

He didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to hear how bit by agonising bit Karl had managed to tear the blond apart. Because listening to it, he knew Karl had succeeded. He clenched his fist so tight he almost broke his own fingers as the description went on and on.

When Karl started to tell how he'd used Tommy to break through Hutch's last barrier, Starsky shivered. For he knew Hutch, he knew exactly what this would do to him. The brunet's eyes turned cold as Karl apparently started to relive the whole scene, and happily described what they had said to Hutch, that it was the blond's own fault that his partner had left him. How he had screamed in the end.

Starsky drew his gun.

Oblivious to the danger he was in, Karl Forest blatantly went on, only to stop mid-sentence when he found the brunet aiming the muzzle of the Beretta at his chest. Karl froze.

Starsky stood stock still, he didn't move a muscle, didn't even quiver.

For a second, real fear surfaced in Karl's eyes as he noticed the hot blue fire raging beneath brown curls in a face devoid of any feeling.

"Murder one, Detective," Karl gulped in a small voice, "Murder one."

The brunet wanted nothing more than to shoot a hole through the man who had made Hutch what he was now, cold. A lot of his partner's actions started to make sense. The only thing stopping him from pulling the trigger was the fact that Karl was right. He would be no better than the man sitting in front of him, if he were to kill him right now. The partner Hutch had tried so desperately to protect and had thrown out of that warehouse so many months ago, the husband that Belinda had loved so much. That man would be gone.

Starsky lifted his gun with a jerk, and angrily marched towards the door to roughly pull it open. He walked out, leaving behind a quivering Karl, who breathed a sigh of relief.

The brunet's stomach threatened to rebel and spill out its entire contents, causing him to stagger into the adjoining observation room. His always present guilt took over, becoming a writhing, living thing, now forcing its way out. Why hadn't he been there? How could he have just lived this happy life, oblivious of his partner's trials? How could he have let this happen? How could anyone have let this happen?

A deep powerful anger rose up out of the depths of his very being, making him storm out of the observation room in blinding fury.

The squad room occupants all fell silent as Starsky burst in and walked straight through to the captain's office. Before Dobey had a chance to berate his Detective on his disrespectful entry, the brunet was already all over him, "Where the hell were you? Huh? How could you've let this happen? Six months, and you couldn't find him? SIX GODDAMN MONTHS! What have you been doing all that time?

"Starsky, we've-"

But the brunet was far too worked up to stop now as the events were catching up with him right then and there. "NO! You should've figured out where they kept him! You shouldn't have just left him there!"

"STARSKY!" His Captain yelled, standing up abruptly.

The brunet fell silent.

"Don't you think we've tried? We turned over every stone in this town! I had everyone looking for you two, both on and off duty. We got nothing. And if we did get something, the Feds cut us off at the pass! When they ordered me to drop the investigation, God, help me I did. What the hell was I supposed to do? Go vigilante with the whole department?

"Well, you shouldn't have listened to them! You shoulda kept lookin'! You shoulda…!" Starsky suddenly realised the words he shouted were manifestations of his own feelings. Guilt started to consume him and he stopped, turning around as his eyes wetted around the rim. He bit his lip and just stood there.

Dobey sat in silence for a while as he let Starsky pull himself together. The brunet was grateful for that. Then his captain walked around the desk to sit down on it. "I did, son. I never stopped, and neither did Huggy. He found out what Karl was up to way before the police did. That's how we were able to arrive at that farm in time, the way we did."

"You were too late," Starsky said, staring at the wall.

"You're both alive, that's what counts."

Starsky ran a hand across his face, unable to hide his despair any longer. "He's not. Not really, he's all broken up inside."

"He'll get well, just give him time."

Starsky turned towards him, his face a mixture of anger and grief. "You don't get it do you? I can't fix it… I can't reach him… it's too deep… I just… can't."

Dobey frowned. "Did Karl tell you what happened?"

The brunet took a deep sigh, before speaking up, "They destroyed him, captain." He walked over to the door as Dobey had fallen silent. "Plain and simple."

Then he left, closing the door behind him with a loud bang.

* * *

**Chapter 30**

The anger just wouldn't leave him. The adrenaline made him speed all the way back to the hospital where he marched back to Hutch's room, only to walk up and down the isle, because in his present state he didn't want to face his partner.

"Is everything all right, Detective?"

Starsky stopped dead in his tracks as he looked up to find Delilah standing a few feet away with a sympathetic smile on her face. Caught off guard he just nodded, "Yeah, 'm fine."

Delilah walked over to him. "Huggy told me what happened. I came to see how you were doing."

Starsky glanced over his shoulder to his partner's room. He needed a bit more time to cool off and didn't want to take Delilah in there just yet. "Well, I was just about to head for the cafeteria to get me something to eat." He gave her a grin, "How 'bout you join me?"

Delilah answered it with a widening smile. "Now that's an offer I can't refuse, Detective."

A few minutes later they had settled down at a table not too far from the counter. The cantina was reasonably filled with all kinds of people. Though Delilah dutifully drank all of her coffee and ate a sandwich, Starsky kept prying into his food with his fork, not feeling hungry at all.

"It's hard, isn't it?"

"Hmmm? What?" Starsky looked up in surprise, momentarily mystified as to what she was talking about.

"It's hard, trying to regain what you've lost."

Hesitating for a second, Starsky sat back, giving up his efforts to try and eat something and dropping his fork on the plate. "Yeah, well… at least I got my memory back."

"So, what's wrong?"

Starsky shrugged. "It's Hutch, half the time he doesn't even know I'm there, and when he does, he goes out of his way to ignore me."

Her face fell in sympathy. "These things are very complicated, Detective. But you can believe me when I say that, although it may not look like it, you're the one who's keeping him together. Don't give up hope, David."

Starsky sighed, "Who's giving up?" After a brief silence he continued, "So, this is what you meant when you told me that his future felt very lonely? You know, back when we first met?"

"It's a consequence." Delilah stated.

"Just as Belinda was," he said bitterly, "Just a consequence."

"You feel guilty," Delilah stated.

"Yeah."

"What d 'you think your partner would say if you could tell him about Belinda? About your love for her? About your dilemma?

Starsky gave a quick shake of his head, "He won't hold it against me. More likely he understands it, goes out and buys me an Italian diner." The thought somehow lightened his heart.

Then he turned gloomy again. "He's not always this way you know." Starsky said, referring to Hutch's cold demeanor. He explained how he'd suddenly found Hutch lying next to him in his bed, how the blond sometimes did reach out for him in the middle of the night.

A soft sad smile graced Delilah's features. "Yes, another consequence. The close contact is the soul's way of healing itself. A lot has been 'broken' between you two. Your bond is like a broken bone, it needs to be put close together to knit properly. Distance will not help the healing process, only closeness and minimal friction. Hutch may not want to acknowledge your presence, but his soul does. It knows you're here and acts on it when his guard is down."

"Like at night… or when he first woke up?"

She nodded.

"Will he ever… you know… heal?"

Delilah looked at him for a moment, taking slightly too long to reply.

Starsky could read the answer in her eyes. She didn't believe Hutch would ever be the man he once was, that part of him would always stay cold, and lost forever. She'd probably never seen anyone fully recover from this, and believed that it would take a miracle for Hutch to ever be able to reach out to anyone ever again.

She lowered her head as she had no answer for him.

Starsky noddedin grim defiance. She doesn't know you, Hutch. You're strong. Whatever it takes to get you to bounce back onto your feet again, I'll handle. After all, it's what Bell died for. Besides, I don't have a choice, buddy. I can't live without 'me and thee.'

* * *

Following Lilly's advice, Starsky determinedly stayed at the hospital, refusing to budge an inch until the blond had been released, much to Hutch's chagrin. Starsky's fear that Delilah was right made him anxious and tense, causing him to walk out on the blond on more than one occasion. 

Hutch's continuing coldness started to affect him deeply.

The blond's distant, bitter behavior became daily routine, and the times in which Hutch did open up simply vanished after while. Seeing Hutch this way, knowing that his partner was once capable of so much care, and so much love that he would even stop to give a small sad stranger- a kid- some money to cheer the boy up, made the brunet turn ever more quiet.

It also kept his body from healing the way it should have been. He started to feel sick; a nagging inconvenience at first, but it gradually increased as he kept ignoring the doctor's warning against a possible relapse and didn't take the time to rest and recuperate.

Finally, the blond was allowed to go home.

* * *

Hutch stared at the brunet in undisguised anger, who stood frozen just inside the door, as the blond spoke harshly, "Ever since I've been home, you've practically been living on my doorstep! Well I don't like it!" 

Venice Place had felt… odd to him at first. He kept waking up, thinking he was still in that basement. No matter that he was out, the deep dark pit, which he had been thrown into, still kept his soul a prisoner. A part of him had never left that cellar; a part was still in there.

On occasion, he would turn around, while standing in the kitchen for instance, positive that Karl was watching him and was about to give an order that would mean another two hours of hell for Hutch. The blond knew it was over, that Karl was in custody and that he was back living his own life, but somehow he just couldn't muster the strength to release the terror still inside him.

He did notice Starsky's increasing quietness, the tired rim around his eyes and the brunet's paling features. He watched from a distance as though he was watching someone on television, watched, as the brunet started to walk around more and more like a zombie. And on those times he tried to reach out, fought to raise a hand, and always lost. His attempts waning at the realisation that he just couldn't do it.

Sometimes, at night, when he'd seen Starsky exhausting himself during the day, when he realised this was killing him, he cried out in his sleep as he'd desperately tried to crawl up the steep walls of his inner confines, leaving his mind's fingers raw and bleeding. The pain increasing unbearably as he fell back into darkness again.

He'd been home for a couple of days now, and Starsky was always there, forcing him to think, to feel, to reach out. But the rupture of their bond still bled inside Hutch, he just couldn't quell it, so the brunet's presence only caused the pain to slowly become unbearable, making the blond wanting to scream at his partner to just go away, much as he'd once screamed at Karl, "This is all you're going to get, Starsky! There isn't anymore! The Hutch you knew is gone! Can't you get that through your head?"

Starsky didn't speak.

Hutch knew the words hit him hard, but he was unable to care about that. "If you can't accept that, than get out! Give me some space, for crying out loud! You're not my mother! GET OUT!"

The brunet lowered his head, then without a word he turned and left.

Hutch fell silent at the soft click of the door, his own words echoing through his head, _get … out! _

He took a step back as a pain-filled feeling stirred inside him, _get… get out._ He sank down on the couch in shock; his eyes stinging at the sudden memory, as he saw himself throw Starsky out of that warehouse…feeling the sudden wave of love that had made him do it.

_I couldn't let Karl…_

_I couldn't…_

He felt something inside him break free at the recollection of his compassion and sacrifice to save his partner. Taking a few deep breaths he managed to control his feelings. He still couldn't believe Karl was gone, didn't dare to believe it and closed his eyes.

* * *

Trembling from head to toe Starsky had stepped into the parked Torino in front of Venice Place and tried to recover enough strength to either start it up, or to go upstairs and face Hutch again, who he knew, would either ignore him, or throw him out. 

The damn nausea was back again as remnants of the drugs took the opportunity to hit him hard. He felt sick and had to lower his head and arms on the steering wheel for a while.

Lately, remnants of the drug more and more often seemed to take control over his mind and body. Feelings of vertigo would happen for no reason at all and his hold on reality would slip, just for a few seconds, making him unable to fathom whom he was, and what he was doing in this city. But despite these occasional set backs, he had managed to hold on and physically he was getting better.

However, Hutch's last outburst had blown his unstable control to smithereens. At that moment in that living room he'd suddenly become aware of the emptiness between them, of the stranger now filling Hutch's shoes. The blond's continuous rejections had already chipped away the last of his reserves. It was all too much. He needed his partner. He needed to know they were going to get through this, the both of them. But it just wasn't there anymore.

He had lost; they both had lost.

Starsky bit his lip as his body recoiled with the pain of loss. Belinda's death… Hutch… It all caught up with him. The nausea intensified, the familiar headache appeared and all Starsky could do was sit there, falling apart as his control over the drug slipped.

He sat silent for a few minutes, until the world finally stopped spinning, and with a heavy heart he decided to head up again. Starsky knew Hutch would probably nail him to the wall for showing up at his doorstep again, but he didn't have much of a choice. He was in no condition to drive and at the very least needed the blond's phone to call a cab.

He knocked the door out of sheer politeness. When there was no answer he let himself in. "Hutch?"

His partner was sitting on the couch, head in his hands and eyes closed. Without looking up he said bitterly, "What are you doing here? Didn't I tell you to… get … out?" Hutch opened his eyes to look at him.

There was a pain there, which Starsky had only seen one time before, an image engraved in his mind as he'd backed off out of the storage facility. Also, he didn't miss the hesitatingly spoken last two words. Ignoring the question, the tired brunet sat himself down opposite the blond on the table, Hutch's contemptuous look following his every move. "Hutch, why did you throw me out of that factory? Do you remember? Why did you do that if you don't care?"

"I told you to leave it alone, Starsk." Hutch said quietly, standing up to walk away from the brunet once again.

_No, buddy. Not this time, _Starsky thought. Groggy but determined Starsky staggered after him and grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Let me go," Hutch's demand sounded firm, yet at the same time Starsky could sense his hidden confusion.

"No."

Hutch tried to shrug him loose, but having anticipated this, the brunet tightened his grip and forcefully turned him his way. "Hutch I am here! I'm real, look at me! LOOK AT ME!"

He saw the panic rising in the blond's eyes, just a fraction of a second before it made the man lash out, flinging Starsky against the piano.

The brunet sank down, momentarily stunned at his partner's actions. But he didn't give up… he couldn't. "Hutch… you just gotta… remember." Slowly, he sat up, to rest his head against the wood of the instrument. To his horror, the agony deep within his soul started to intensify again, and he was starting to feel that same state of awful forgetfulness he'd felt right after Karl had injected him. Unable to stop it from happening, Starsky knew he had a relapse. He spoke in soft despair, "I know you're in there…"

Hutch restlessly paced the room, and then walked up to the window to bang his fist against the sill. "Starsky, I… I can't… I…"

"Can't what… partner?" the brunet asked softly, forcing the words out.

Hutch looked out the window, watching the pale blue sky, "I know that I … I threw you out… out of that warehouse I mean… b… but I can't… I _can't_ get out. It just doesn't work that way."

"Hutch, it's over. Karl's gone. You're out. And the reason I know … is cos… cos I carried ya, all…all the way over the… threshold." Starsky gave a weak grin, "And you're not even my type."

The blond turned. Starsky could see his eyes starting to shimmer as he desperately tried to cover the necessary few feet that would bring him to his partner's side. The dilemma was clear on his face. But he didn't move.

"Hey Hush," the brunet said, feeling the darkness closing in. It was so damned hard to keep awake. "It isn't so bad not remembering anything," he whispered, closing his eyes. "You're… right. It's a whole… lot… easier… this… way." The familiar numbness was taking over, relentlessly spreading through his system.

Suddenly he heard determined footsteps. For a second he was afraid that Hutch was about to pick him up to throw him roughly out of the house. He flinched, trying to move away from his partner. But then warm arms wrapped themselves around him, and a body pulled the brunet into a trembling embrace.

The touch was electrifying.

Surprised, Starsky looked up to find Hutch holding him, eyes clenched shut and shaking like a leaf. Miraculously, the brunet felt the life starting to flow back into him. Using the warmth coursing through his partner's touch, Starsky managed to clear his head a bit. Ever so slowly the effect the remnants of the drug were having started to wear off and after a short while, Starsky felt well enough to sit up a bit.

He placed a hand on the cheek of his partner, who just shook his head as the brunet's touch caused wave after wave of tension and terror to finally release itself. Starsky held his hand steady, letting the trembles beneath his hand wash over into him. Deep inside, he could almost feel a soft click, a connection re-establishing itself, and the warmth intensified.

Hutch opened his eyes. They looked at each other, a wet film started to glaze the blond's eyes, as shivers of both fear and relief still shot up his body and he smiled.

Starsky smiled back, swallowing away a lump in his throat he said hoarsely "Hey, welcome back, Blintz."

His partner started to look down, unable to speak. Starsky pulled him in, buffering the silent trembles and soft sobs, until they finally subsided.

The brunet sat slightly back to hold a slack Hutch at arm's length. Starsky's wide grin answered the soft smile. "Knew you were in there somewhere… I was right; you're tougher than you look."

"You all right?" Hutch asked hoarsely, in a voice Starsky had desperately missed.

"Yeah, I think I'm ready to hit the streets in a second," Starsky joked softly. God, the bantering felt good.

Hutch smiled. "Sure… just let me get my jacket."

Somehow that struck Starsky as incredibly funny and he started to laugh, but then grew serious. "I'm sorry… for… for leaving you… If I'd been there…"

"Starsk," Hutch took a moment to pull himself together before speaking again. "If you'd stayed…we'd both be dead. I'm not sorry for what I did. I couldn't let Karl…" he stopped, and took a deep sigh.

"Hey." When Hutch didn't listen, he repeated, "HEY."

The blond shot him a glance.

"Karl told me what happened," Starsky gently grabbed his partner's shoulder to make sure Hutch was listening. "And whatever he told you, about you, or me, or your family, it ain't true, you hear me? None of it's true. And just so you know, I won't be going anywhere for awhile."

"That's cos you feel nauseous and dizzy Starsk." Hutch said casually.

For a second the brunet was stunned at his partner's insightful statement, because that was exactly how he felt. "Well, it's not too bad," he shrugged. "I'm just gonna have to wait until your living room gets tired of all this spinning, that's all."

"Don't give me that crap, Starsky. You had a relapse, didn't you?"

Starsky's face fell. "Well, yeah… maybe."

"Starsky," the blond said impatiently. Anger at what happened suddenly flashed the blond's eyes a bit brighter. Then it disappeared, leaving a spent Hutch behind.

The brunet couldn't help but release a relieved sigh. Suddenly, he felt queasy again.

Hutch seemed to sense it and put his arm around him.

Starsky leaned in and spoke gratefully, "Glad to have you back partner, glad to have you back."

* * *

"Hutchinson! HUTCHINSON!" 

Hutch turned to see his Captain trying to meet up with him. The sweat on his brow, which he was now wiping away with a handkerchief, told him Dobey had probably spotted him entering the prison and had run after him. "Cap, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know, the usual business." Dobey frowned. "Are you all right? You look… different."

"Well, let's just say I've been cured."

The stern commander released some of his grim posture as a genuine smile lid his face. "Hey, that's good, that is… really good."

"Yeah," Hutch stated, always feeling a bit awkward when his Captain started to get mushy.

"Where's Starsky?" Dobey asked warily.

The confused look on the Captain's face was almost amusing. Hutch reassured him, "Captain, I'm fine. A bit shaky, but fine. Starsky's at home, he needs the rest, besides there's something I need to do alone."

"D' you think that's wise?"

Hutch nodded. It was just as he thought. The moment Dobey had seen him; the man had known exactly what he was up to.

"Captain, with all due respect, you're not gonna stop me. He is here isn't he?"

Dobey sighed, apparently coming to the conclusion that if Starsky hadn't stopped him, then who was he to argue. "Yeah, he's locked up, awaiting trial. In the mean time we've been trying to get him to confess to Tommy's murder, nothing so far."

"He knows he's a dead man if he admits he's done it, Cap."

The man nodded in agreement. "Well? What are you waiting for? Go on," Dobey ordered, brusquely. Hutch gave him a small salute and walked away.

Hutch stood quietly for a while, hands over the doorknob, before opening the door and stepping inside the small room to which Karl had been transferred. "Give me five minutes," he said to the guard standing outside the door.

The guard nodded.

Karl sat boringly at a small wooden table. On Hutch's orders the guards had removed his handcuffs, and the man could move freely through the room if he wanted to. It would have been a lot easier for the blond to talk to a restrained man, but Hutch didn't want that. He needed to know if he could do this, if he was still the cop he once was; one who wouldn't let himself be intimidated by a man like Karl, whether the crime boss was handcuffed or not.

Karl's face was a mixture of anger and frustration as he spoke, "What's this all about? I told you a thousand times all ready. I didn't do it! God, my lawyer is going to have a field day with you people. You can't just keep…" He stopped when he recognised the blond. An evil grin darkened his features, "Well, well, well, look who has come to join the party. I guessed you've missed our little sessions together, didn't you?"

Hutch closed the door behind him, and then slowly walked over to the table, his posture stiff with barely concealed anger. Biting his lip he forced himself to keep his voice calm, "We're going to put you away for a long, long time, Karl." He leaned in a bit closer and sneered, "Be happy pal, because I'm gonna make sure you're going to the same place your brother's being held."

Karl paled visibly. "You wouldn't."

"Try me," Hutch said mercilessly.

"He won't hold me responsible for Tommy! Y… you did it."

"Karl, I don't think Ben's fellow inmates will agree." Hutch stated, and stood up straight. As the man started to shake, Hutch added, "You won't make it through the first day."

"All right, all right! It… it was an accident! You were there! You saw it! You gotta… tell 'em that it was an accident! Yes, I shot him. But I didn't plan it! He was my brother's son for God's sake. What kind of a brother would do something like that on purpose! I could never… I couldn't!" The man was snivelling now, terrified at the prospect of having to face Ben Forest who would probably kill him for what he had done. "I … he's my brother! You know what that's like! He's family! And so was Tommy!"

Hutch's finger shot out as a bitter anger forced its way up his throat. "You don't know what it's like to have a brother."

Karl took a deep breath, obviously realising that all was lost anyway. He visibly calmed down and said, "And I suppose you do, huh?"

Hutch moved away to stand over by the door. Karl stood up and went to stand behind him. He whispered evilly in his ear, "I may have killed Tommy… and thus signed my own death warrant, but at least I got the satisfaction that at some point, I _had _you, Hutchinson."

Hutch froze.

"The pain is still there? Isn't it? Deep down inside? Come on, you can tell me. I'll always be there, you know, in your sleep and in your dreams. The pain will never go away, because I broke you once, and someday, partner, I will do it again."

Hutch felt Karl putting a hand on his shoulder.

The blond turned in one swift motion, and his fist connecting hard with the man's jaw. He actually felt the jawbone shatter beneath the impact. Karl flew backwards over the table, where he came to a skidding halt at an awkward position, knocked out cold.

"I already have a partner." Hutch spoke fiercly to the man now draped unconsciously across the tabletop.

_God, that felt good, _he thought. The blond took a deep breath, and let the bitterness flow from his body. Something he hadn't been able to do for a long time. Suddenly, he felt whole again, strong, and ready to take on the world. He wasn't alone; and slowly began to realise that he had never been alone. Starsky had been right. As long as this connection they seemed to be having was there, nothing could really get to them.

With that knowledge tucked away deeply in his heart, Hutch quietly left the room.

* * *

**Epilogue**

Starsky dropped down against the bark of huge beech tree. He watched his partner squatting at Tommy's grave to place a bouquet of daisies on top of it. The graveyard was lying peacefully in the warm evening sun, with only a few people visiting it.

They'd both just returned from Burnaby. There Starsky had held his own memorial service at Belinda's grave. Hutch had stayed in the background, ready to pick up the pieces afterwards. After that they'd gone to visit the restaurant. It was his now, but Starsky had decided to sell it to Bell's aunt. Although Belinda's relatives and friends had only been told that Bell had been murdered during her honeymoon, and that Starsky had taken quite a beating himself, the brunet just didn't feel comfortable enough to keep the establishment. He didn't belong here, and felt incredible sorry for the grief he had caused these people. They hadn't stayed long. For one thing they were both still quite shaky from their whole ordeal and tired easily. So, after taking care of the necessary paperwork they'd headed back.

Starsky closed his eyes for a second to breathe in the grassy scent of the evening air.

He sighed. It felt good to be back in Bay City again.

He opened his eyes to look at his partner who was now walking up to him. They had talked about what had happened, but hadn't taken the time yet to acknowledge the nature of their bond. Truth to be told, Starsky didn't want to delve too deeply into it. The whole thing kind of freaked him out. Luckily Delilah seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth. Another one of her premonitions and he was sure he would flatten her, lady or not, though he had to admit that she had helped them… a lot.

"Hey, partner. Ready to go?"

Starsky looked up to find Hutch leaning with one hand against the tree. "It's a nice evening, Hutch. Enjoy it for a while."

Hutch raised his eyebrows in surprise and teased. "That's usually my line. Could Burnaby really have changed you that much?"

The brunet grinned, "Let's just say I learned to appreciate the simple things of life a bit more."

Resigning to the situation, Hutch went to sit beside him. "If you hadn't come back… I don't know what would've happened. I really thought you had forgotten me…"

Starsky shook his head. "I did, I had… but… I dunno… I kept havin' these dreams, it was really weird. Because I couldn't remember you, I just kept having these… feelings, and sometimes pain. And I knew … deep inside… you know. Something felt wrong. I never truly forgot you, partner. Never."

"Yeah," Hutch said and looked away. "Deep inside… "

A brief silence followed as both men tried to come to terms with what had happened.

"Starsk, you told me we had this connection, right?"

"Yeah," Starsky said carefully, "I felt it snap, just after…" He paused, not wanting to dwell on how Karl had injected him. "Jeez, it hurt. You know, in hindsight, It was fortunate that the drug took over, cos I don't know what I would have done if it hadn't. The pain was awful."

"I know." Hutch said softly.

It took a full five seconds for Starsky to realise what Hutch was saying.

His eyes grew wide, snapping his head sideways he spoke, "Hutch, you're sayin'…" Suddenly Hutch's words came back to him when he'd first woken up. The blond had told him Starsky was gone, and that it hurt like hell.

Hutch let his head, rest back against the tree with a deep sigh. It took him a moment to speak up. "I didn't understand it at first, Starsk. "I've never felt anything like it. It made the bullet wounds feel ticklish in comparison." He paused slightly, before adding, "It took me a couple of days to figure it out."

Starsky watched him, silently. Having experienced some of that pain himself he was unable to fathom what it must've been like if you experienced it for days on end. No wonder Hutch had felt so lost. "Did it subside? After a while?" He spoke far calmer than he felt.

Hutch nodded sadly, "Yeah, but by then Karl had all ready…"

"Uhuh."

Hutch sighed again and shrugged. "In the end I just gave up."

Taking a deep breath, Starsky retorted, "With what you've been through, I think you were entitled to."

"Starsk, I never give up. You know that," Hutch muttered softly.

Inwardly Starsky had to smile at the blond's ability to remember his own strengths and weaknesses again. "So, you're only human. Welcome to the club, buddy."

Hutch turned towards him. "It's gone now."

Starsky raised an eyebrow.

"The pain, the emptiness, it's gone."

"That's cos I'm here."

"Either that or it's the chilly breakfast you force-fed me this morning."

Starsky grinned, spotting the weariness in the blond's eyes. The last few days had been tiresome and they could both use a good sleep. "Come on, beautiful… I'll take ya home."

And with a gentle nudge, Starsky steered both him and his partner away from the graveyard, and back into life."

* * *

Over in the distance Delilah saw them go. She smiled as she watched the two friends leave, arms around each others shoulders. She observed the bright light now surrounding the both of them, noticing the silver sparks joyously dancing around in it. 

Her smile widened.

They would make it, they were strong again, and would be able to keep on fighting Bay City's darker side.

She looked down at her husband's grave. "When you died, you said I couldn't join you just yet. You said that there were still people around who needed me and that this was more important than my feelings for you… I didn't believe you."

She stared in the distance once again, watching the two men disappear beneath a large overhang of trees.

"I do now," she said with contentment, "I do now, my love."

**The End. **

* * *


End file.
